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.

Tomorrow Chemo

Yes, tomorrow is chemo. At this point I feel little like maybe it will happen and maybe it won't. Everything has been so unpredictable. I have no reason to believe that it won't happen, it's just that before my second chemo I had to wait an extra week, and before my originally scheduled third chemo I was in the hospital. So let's just hope that this goes off without a hitch - my WBC are okay, the drugs are in stock, and whatever else that I can't think of won't happen.

I had a really great day today. Took Bennett to school, walked the dog, even got into the studio for an hour. I designed the stained glass that will go over the door in the new bedroom. The thing about being in the studio, is I have to be present in order to make work - I mean really present. And that is hard, because I have to think about all the things I try not to think about all the live long day. So I worked for an hour and that is what I could do before I started getting afraid. Maybe Thursday I can do it for longer knowing that I survived today's hour just fine. The fear did not kill me and it never will.  It's just fear. Frickin', wily-assed fear that is my worst enemy- keeping me from my living the way I want to be in my life.

I also got my hair cut today. I had a great experience with Julie's fab hairdresser at Salon O in Easthampton. She made me cry by not letting me pay. Another example of the incredible generosity that comes to me.

I am not sure always how to take it, but I know everyone just wants to do what they can in a situation that is so disempowering. Is that a word?  How about a situation that scares the shit out of everyone? That's probably more accurate.

Today I heard a story from a friend about a guy who has colon cancer and it is also in his liver. He had surgery and had to have 1/5 of his liver removed. Lucky bastard, is all I could think. Of course I don't know the whole story, and of course I am also very lucky, but it's that same thing that makes me jealous of people who seem to be less full of cancer than I am. I have to remind myself that cancer sucks for everyone who gets it. Period. And that kind of thinking helps no one, and doesn't change a single thing. Not my cancer, not his cancer, not the absence cancer in the other people's bodies.

Okay, so let me keep my eye on the most accessible prize - tomorrow's chemo. I want my little pump back, whispering it's hard work to me for 46 hours, reminding me that we are all working hard to save my life one whoosh at a time.