Leg 2 is almost… almost done. I think … but then I have thought that before – and Leg 3 starts next week. *Sigh*
In general things are looking up. I have been feeling better anyway. I wanted to write again, mostly to just let you know I am doing better. This last month or so has been a little rough.
So, the latest, medically is this: The MRI showed possible involvement of my uterus. But they aren’t sure. They did ANOTHER imaging test – and still are not sure. The difference is this: 1. I am either stage 3 or stage 4, depending on the involvement of another organ. 2. It changes the way that they do my radiation and 3. Whether or not I get a hysterectomy at the time of my surgery or not. Because they cannot rule it out, they are changing the scope of the radiation to include the possibility – and to do that, they need insurance approval and time to tweak their data. So… I have to wait another week to get this started.
As I consider Leg 3 of my journey (the treatment phase) I have imagined an amusement park ride called the “Screaming Eagle”. You are sitting in a chair that is part of the “eagles claw”, you swing in a 180-degree arc while spinning in a circle. This is how I see my duel treatments. I am not sure if I see the chemo as the swinging back and forth and the radiation like being in a microwave spinning on the plate or the chemo as the nauseas spinning and the radiation as throwing me back and forth. Either way – the result doesn’t sound like fun, and I am pretty sure it’s a ride I am going to wish I could get off of!
I remember when I was pregnant the first time and so scared of it all. Someone told me to just remember it has an end. None of what I was experiencing or going to experience was going to last forever. It had an end and the end was a wonderful new life. So, I am remembering this as I walk this path. This is not fun, this is going to get a lot less fun. BUT it has an end and that end (we hope) is a cancer-free body. Like pregnancy – this has changed my life forever. Like being a parent, the new perspective, the new focus – all of this, changes who you are. I hope that I grow into this new life well and with lessons well learned. I hope it makes me a better, more compassionate, more thoughtful person.
I have learned to take one day at a time. I never know how I will feel from one day to the next. I never know what the doctors have planned for me next. I can’t even count on being here tomorrow, as the death of my friend made oh so clear. So, I look for what I can find in each day to celebrate. What task can I complete? Who else can I pray for, so I don’t get stuck on me, me, me? What do I want to enjoy? Who can I encourage or help in some way? Who do I need to fix things with? So, I wake up each day. Do what I can to feel as well as I can. Examine what I NEED to do. Pray about it. I see what the day gives me and learn to be grateful for the small blessings. It is not a bad way to live, this new life.
