This past week I found out my cancer was worse than they first thought. I was under the impression that surgery would likely be all the treatment needed, but not so.The good news is that my cancer is very treatable; I am one of the lucky ones who is "triple positive," which is the best kind of breast cancer because they have the drugs to treat it. Those who know me and my somewhat morose nature understand that I've never been called" triple positive" or probably even just "positive" in my life, so this could also be considered a compliment.
Of course, it was not easy hearing this news, particularly in the awkward and awful way it was delivered (I won't get into that here, as my new "triple positive" persona does not like to focus on the negative) but I will share a few things I have learned the past few weeks:
- Doctors do not know everything; they are not super heroes. Perhaps I unconsciously believed this myth because my father is a retired physician. Growing up, the man could cure anything that ailed me with the right medicine, and our cabinets were stocked with various concoctions While my father, now 84, continues to be one of my biggest heroes (he spit in the face of some Nazi youth as a kid - pretty cool, huh?), he is only human. As are all the doctors who have treated me so far. Still, a couple I've come across could use a refresher course in compassion and clear communication, but I negatively digress...
- The mind is a strange and powerful tool. I wholeheartedly believe that all the happy place preparation and trance work I did before surgery helped me recover so easily. On the contrary, while i was getting some scans done this past Monday, I had David Soul's song (remember him? Hutch from Starsky and Hutch?) "Don't Give up on us Baby" stuck in my head. I have no idea why, but it added a level of torture to the experience that I was not expecting.
- If you read my post on the whole blanket of luv thing, you probably won't be surprised to hear me say that I'm not really a big believer in angels and that sort of thing. However I am beginning to suspect that there really might be some little angel-like creatures here on earth, like the PERFECT friend who calls you at just the right moment--immediately after a horrible doctor's appointment, for instance (you know who you are if you are reading this). And then there's all the other little angel-like people who have come to my rescue thus far with their kind words and gluten-free treats and high carb, sodium-rich delicious dinners (we'll have to revisit this when I'm going through chemo but so far it's been great!).
- Patience, as the note on my refrigerator continues to remind me, will very much be in order the next several months. I have already started to give up some things I was very much looking forward to - or as my triple positive persona would say, "postpone" some things I was looking forward to this spring and summer. I will just have to do them later.
- Finally: Benadryl and writing DO NOT mix. I tried to write this post earlier this week and got very frustrated because I could barely write a coherent sentence. Then I remembered I was taking Benadryl due to a rash I got from my antibiotic. So I thought I'd share this with you in case you are trying to write an essay or blog while on Benadryl. Then again, if you have successfully written an essay or blog while on Benadryl or other drugs, I'd love to hear about your experience and perhaps read it, so do share. I'm also wondering if any famous writers wrote anything while on Benadryl. Like Fitzgerald or Hemingway? I Googled "Hemingway and Benadryl" but did not come up with anything (although I found this interesting story about Hemingway's drinking habits - He did not like to drink while writing. It does not say anything about taking Benadryl while writing however). Then again, did Benadryl even exist then? If not I hope these writers didn't have allergies.
Funny and inspirational as usual. You're a rockstar.
ReplyDeleteI think we can all agree that is this is both sh*tty news (the cancer being worse) and good news (that is treatable). But, I'm sure that from your perspective it's hardly an equal trade-off. I know that during my recent go-round with the Norwalk virus, when it felt like I was in the middle of a two-day Ipecac bender, I took little comfort in the fact that "it was the weekend" and that I "wasn't missing any work" (and yes, I realize that talking about your own recent bout of illness on someone else's cancer blog, even at service of an analogy, is kind of low rent).
ReplyDeleteNow, to the issue at hand: I think you've been more than accommodating so far to this disease. But cancer is as thick and stupid as it is vicious. The only thing it understands is brute force. So, like a train yard bull in a hobo-filled rail car, I think it's time to mometarily set aside your inhernet sense of decency and start swinging a leather sap with the kind of indiscrimate savagery rarely seen outside of a first-grade birthday party pinata game (metaphorically, of course; you don't want to scare the neighbors).
Also:
The "patience" note: Any chance that you were reminding yourself to learn the chord progression to the Guns N Roses ballad of the same name? Because that would explain both the note and the guitar shaped magnet.
By the way, if you are still interested, it's C G A D C G A D C G C Em C G D D. And this is something that the over-consumption of Benadryl actually makes better (at least according to Slash).
David Soul: Did they shoot that video at a Sears Portrait Studio? And why is he singing it in the style of a dubbed actor in a low-budget Taiwanese karate film?
The 1970s truly was the worst period in history of man.