I can’t remember ever being truly afraid of death. There are
methods of dying which horrify me a bit, but as for the state of
being no longer alive, not so scary. There was even a dark time in my life in
which I was rushing toward it. Don’t get me wrong. It has long been my wish for
an extensive and happy life, but I also accept that death is something we all
experience eventually.
Somewhere between treatments, the cancer snuck back into my
lung. As far as I know, my tumor index is still much lower than it was in the
beginning, but I don’t know what this means number-wise. Really, I don’t care
what it means at all in numbers or in words. I just know that it’s trying to
get the best of me. It started as a silent invader and is still as stealthy as
ever. And for the first time, fear is creeping in along with it. Even as I
drink a mug of tomato soup and type at my computer in my warm apartment, a line
of ice is making its way down my spine and there’s a paranoid tingling at the
base of my skull.
Just the other evening I had several moments in which I
almost lost my composure in front of Violet. I felt as if I sat too still, I
would begin to shake and tears were already beginning to stir. I had to leave
the room to ensure that she wouldn’t see me in distress. I was hoping I would
be able to shrug it off by the next morning, but even today, it clings
tenaciously to the back of my psyche, springing forth when least expected. It
happened again today as I was driving to my Krav Maga class. Violet was in her
car seat and I was listening to Wardruna on the stereo. I had enough
distractions to keep it from becoming overwhelming. It was more like a
continuous dreaded thought peeking out behind my eyes. Even now, I feel it
sending its reminders, as if it wants me to know it’s watching me back.
Now this in no way means I’m giving up. And it doesn’t mean
that I’m accepting the diagnosis as “no cure.” It just means that for the first
time, I can see how formidable this thing can be. I’m feeling its presence as
if I’m being possessed by a malevolent entity. Somewhere in all of this, it
began to feel like something sentient. Its attempt at takeover is purely
hostile and destructive and it’s grinning at me. Mocking me. It wants to win. I
won’t let it. I can’t let it; but for the first time, I’m absolutely terrified.
I was already done with today when my feet swung off the bed
and the right one landed right in cold, squishy cat diarrhea. Violet had been
the one to come in and wake me with much persistence and I had to yell at her
to move out of my way as I hopped to the bathroom to rinse it off in the sink.
I would have used the bathtub, but it’s slightly clogged and takes too long to
drain. The rest of the morning was no picnic. As I struggled to wake up enough
to function, Violet pawed at me, making her usual demands. I got her a bowl of
cereal and curled up on the sofa for a glorious few minutes. I’ve been dealing
with an obnoxious cough which causes a violent stabbing pain in the pinched
nerve that’s in my back. Needless to say, I have not been getting restful sleep.
The time came for me to shower and get ready for the day,
which had me stepping in even more cat diarrhea (Jesse’s cat has been terribly
ill, poor thing) and scrambling for something to wear with Violet still
pestering me for things I can’t deliver at every turn. I barely got both of us
ready in time to get her to the bus for school, then made my way back up to the
apartment where I was greeted by a living room filled with clutter and a
mountain of dishes in the kitchen. My heart sank to see it. I was almost caught
up on things before this cough and back pain started. Now it’s almost back to
where it was and Jesse has been exhausted from work whilst he adjusts to his
new early schedule. So, I get to start again and hopefully, I’ll be able to get
this place completed before something happens to cause another backslide. I
haven’t even touched Violet’s room. The bathroom and our bedroom are atrocious
and there is a giant pile of cardboard by the dining table that needs to go
out.
As I’ve been juggling housework, Violet, endless errands,
and all the fun (not fun) surprises that life keeps pitching my way, the
frustration that I already feel has worsened by something else that has been
eating at me for a while now. Some of my friends are angry with me. One even
called me out. It seems, that I’m not the friend some people want or need me to
be. I’ve been accused of not meeting my end of the required time and attention
needed to maintain said friendships. I’ve been accused of not making the
effort, of not placing enough importance on being a proactive friend and only
making contact when I need something. Fucking ouch.
That last one isn’t entirely true. It came out of a
misunderstanding and miscommunication. I tried to convey something that came
out wrong, and well…there was that. As for the rest of it? Fine. Sure. It’s true.
But let me tell you WHY it’s true.
Now first, let me be clear that the feelings behind such
statements aren’t necessarily wrong. You need what you need and if you need a
friend to meet you exactly halfway in order to maintain the friendship, well…that’s
what you need. There’s nothing wrong with that, but here’s the thing; I don’t
have it to give. It’s not that I don’t want to be the friend that people need.
I do. I do so much, it has caused some serious emotional upset and self-doubt.
After a falling out with one friend in particular, I spent hours in a crumpled
mess of tears, thinking that maybe I’m just a shitty person. It was agony and
it lasted for weeks. Hell, I still feel it. There’s a part of me that still
wonders if I just suck as a human being, but that’s what a lifetime of low
self-esteem and social anxiety will do to you.
Then I remember all that’s on my plate. Even with knowledge
of my situation, I think that sometimes people don’t quite grasp the magnitude
of it. Hell, even I forget how tough I’ve got it at times. I look great most of
the time when people see me. I do Krav Maga (though not nearly as often as I
used to), which is one Hell of a workout. I go to see bands with Jesse when we
have the money. When I do get together with friends, I often seem fine. Here’s
what people don’t see:
I’m exhausted all day, every day. Some days I’m just less
exhausted than others.
I have some sort of physical discomfort almost all the time,
whether it’s my bad teeth, or my bad back, or a screaming tension headache (I
had to go to the E.R. for my head not too long ago).
I have been fighting a seemingly futile battle against my
own apartment, trying to clear out and organize years and years of stuff piling
up, and trying to catch up on the chores that I miss when I’m too sick to do
them.
I have a very busy four-year-old who demands a ridiculous
amount of attention. Even though I love her more than anything, she exhausts and
tests me every day.
I’m all over the place. I have to get Violet on and off the
school bus every day. Mondays and Wednesdays, I have to get her to her karate
class and then get home in time to do some cleaning and make dinner so I can go
to Krav Maga (which I have missed so much of lately due to all the other shit I
have to deal with).
My car is in serious need of help, and I can no longer drive
it more than a few short miles at a time, so I have to wait to do a lot of
things until Jesse is home from work.
The biggest thing though, lest people forget…I HAVE CANCER!
Fucking cancer, people!!! I may look healthy, but how healthy can I possibly be
with stage FOUR fucking cancer??? Just imagine how much worse it would be if I
didn’t have my daughter, Jesse, and Krav Maga to help drive me to continue. All
the things above would certainly keep most people pretty busy, but doing it on
top of something that is actively trying to kill me seems damn impossible some
days. Yes, it’s diminished significantly, and yes, I try to remain as active as
possible, but I haven’t beaten it yet, and this shit takes its toll. I still
haven’t fully recovered from my last bout and I got slammed with this.
People are killed by this every day. Western Medicine has
given me a death sentence. I’m choosing not to accept that sentence, but it
takes a lot of work and determination. I had to leave some Facebook support
groups because the women there were either dying or talking about how much time
they have before they die. I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t handle all that death. Learning
how to live can be difficult. Learning how to live and beat a “terminal”
illness while you’re at it, well how easy is that? It’s not. It’s not easy at
all. I’m up against odds that most people say are impossible. Even with the
progress I’ve made, my oncologist (who is absolutely wonderful, don’t get me
wrong) is still counting on the likelihood of this eventually taking me out. So
how much time and energy do you suppose it takes to disagree with that and make
good on what I propose to do, which is live? How much do you think that takes
out of me? How much energy and constant mindfulness do you think goes into
defying those kinds of odds?
So if I’m not the friend you need, then I’m sorry. I truly
am sorry. As I said before, I just don’t have it to give. It doesn’t make me
right, and it doesn’t make you wrong. It just is what it is. People talk about
not wasting time with someone who treats you like an option instead of a
priority. Well, if you need to be a priority, find someone who has it
available. Right now, my priorities are with raising my daughter, loving my
man, making my home a safe and peaceful place, and NOT DYING. As much as I wish
I could give more, as much as it hurts me to my core, I just can’t. If this
means people are going to walk out of my life, then that’s what it means. Go do
what’s best for you. Of course it hurts, but I’ve got to focus on getting
better. I’ve got to focus on my immediate surroundings if I want to survive…and
I do want to survive. I don’t expect everyone to understand. It’s a lot to take
in. For those who can handle me at my limited capacity, thank you. I know it
can be difficult. For those who can’t, well I wish you the best. Maybe years down
the road, I can be what you need, but not now. Not today. It doesn’t mean I don’t
love you (otherwise it wouldn’t hurt so much). It just means I can’t act on
that love in the way you need me to.
It’s been such a whirlwind. I’ve had no time for writing and
it’s been eating at me. Jesse is living with me now, and it’s been good so far,
even though the apartment is largely in disarray. He lost his job in January
and just started a good one this week. With all the chaos of my life, I chose
to leave my wonderful job to focus on getting better, being a mom, and my
creative pursuits. It’s time for some serious self-care. It’s time to be who
and what I truly am, and to unearth the parts that have been sleeping.
Things have changed with the cancer, too. My tumor index
began to slowly go down with oral chemotherapy. I started taking Rick Simpson
Oil. If you don’t know what that is, I highly recommend looking into it. Even
though it was going down, it was so slow and I was growing so tired of the
fluid overwhelming my lung and having to have it drained via thoracentesis. At
the end of January, I believe it was, the procedure caused my lung to collapse,
which lead to a fun-filled, dilauded-enhanced stay in the hospital. Gradually,
since the beginning of this, the need to have this done became less and less
frequent. Still, it seemed like it was never going to speed up, and as is the
way with chemotherapy, I was getting so weak and so sick.
I don’t bring it up very often, but I have been a Reike
healer for quite a few years, though I maintained level 1 and primarily did
self-healing for that time. I would even go long periods without using it at
all. Well, I finally decided that you can have cancer and still use Reike, so
in March I attended a four-day retreat to complete my Reike 2 training. I had
recently received another call saying that the tumors had gone down again; very
slightly. I was also toward the end of my two-week chemotherapy cycle, and I
was weak and tired. But I went.
I won’t share the details of Reike training, as it’s a lot
to try to fit into a blog. For those who don’t know what it is, in short: Reike
is a Japanese form of meditation that requires training and mentorship. It
promotes physical, emotional, and psychological health. It strengthens the
mind-body-spirit connection, and is even used in some U.S. hospitals.
The retreat was amazing. Even though I had to excuse myself
a few times to go and sleep in my little cabin, I got so much out of it. I
could feel my Phoenix Fire beginning to spark. It ended on a Sunday, and the
following Thursday I had a CT scan to get a better look at the tumors. Just a
few days after that, I got a call from my oncologist’s office. I was told that
the scan showed no evidence of disease in my lung, and everywhere else had
diminished drastically, though it was still in multiple places. Jesse was
sitting with me at the dining room table at his father’s house when this news
came to me. I got off the phone and cried the first genuinely happy tears I can
remember in a long time. I’ve been taken off the chemo and am being placed on hormone
therapies instead.
Of course my Krav Maga has suffered due to all of this, but
I still go whenever I can. That’s the hard part. That’s where I get depressed.
I miss training five days a week. I miss having that drive and ability. I miss
being able to do fall-breaks on my back, then immediately jumping up to strike
the pads. I keep hoping that as I improve, I can get my class count back up,
though I am not allowed to do the belt tests until my spine recovers. I keep
telling myself that until I can advance, I’ll just have to become the most
badass yellow belt I can be. Now…to actually get to class.
Some days the uncertainty of everything gets to me.
Everything is so up in the air with no signs of landing anytime soon. I’m so
glad I have Jesse here now. When I’m floating away or lost in a panic, he has a
miraculous way of grounding me. Of course he drives me batty sometimes but overall,
he soothes my soul. We seem to be sort of building plans, but I try not to
think about it too much. I’m still afraid of losing this.
So yes, it’s been quite eventful. I’ve even had dear friends
and family visit me from other countries since my last post. It’s been wonderful,
but so fast-paced. I’m looking forward to things slowing down a bit. I need
some quiet time, some self-nurturing time. This most definitely includes
writing.
My Uncle Jimmy and Aunt Marlene came to visit from Australia.
I waited 35 years for this day.
My beloved Christina from Germany!!! And Tyler from right here!
