Wednesday night I had the great pleasure of gathering with many of the terrific women who are offering me support. They hail from several areas and times of my life. I marveled as I looked around the room and realized how diverse in personality they are. And I feel so blessed that I know them all. It was a lovely evening and I'm so glad I'm weird enough to have thought of having a "Boob Voyage" party. We ate, drank and made merry and while I did see some weepiness, it did not put a damper on the evening. This cancer thing has turned out to be... I don't know. I was going to say complicated, but it's not. I was going to say a mixed blessing, but so far it's all been good, baby. I'll refrain from saying I wish everyone could have what I have, although I do wish everyone could feel how truly loved and blessed I feel right now.
I am finding it so hard to put into words how right this feels for me. For the first time in a long time I am content and at peace. But this is the calm before the storm.
Cancer and I have been coexisting peacefully in the same body for a while now. It hasn't really bothered me, and I haven't really bothered it. But I am aware that it has an ultimate goal of pushing me out of the place we both share. Like most parasites, it is stupid, eventually killing the host in its quest for real estate. The longer it stays, the stronger it will get, so it is now my time to start my war.
I'm hoping for a short one. Me and my team are hitting hard and fast today. One would think just removing it would be enough, but sadly, it is not. It would be if I was a lump of cheese. You know when you have that brick in the fridge and it gets a little mold on the outside and you cut it off and voila! it's perfectly good cheese again? Well, when I find moldy fruits or vegetables in the fridge I throw them out. I don't feel safe just cutting off the mold because they have a circulation system and some of those yucky mold spores or toxins that the mold produces can spread to the seemingly healthy parts of the fruit. And evidently the oncologists of the world feel the same way. I know I'm not able to imagine how bad it is going to be. (Like trying to imagine the pain of childbirth before you push something the size of a small watermelon out of your hoo-ha.) And thankfully I'll probably not remember the agony after it is all done. (See above birthing reference.)
Humans are nothing if not adaptable and resilient. We are smarter than a stupid old parasite. Our strength increases exponentially when we join in harmony.
Medicine has come so far, and continues to do so. My doctors are good at what they do; they have experience and skill.
We caught my cancer early, (thank you, askew left nipple,) and it is not an overly aggressive type. I am otherwise pretty damn healthy.
I have lots of folks to help take care of me and my family while I concentrate on healing. We have so many resources at our disposal.
I don't feel like I've accomplished what I need to in 'the grand plan'. I have a 7 year old and a 9 year old who need me. And a 46 year old. I'm not done yet.
I realize I cannot hope to be fully prepared for this, and I accept that.
Amen, and amen.
Post Script: Dan will post updates on my facebook account while I am otherwise indisposed.
I love this post, Robyn. I've been thinking about you all day and I called Kim as soon as I got home (I tried not to because I didn't want to bug you guys but I didn't know about Facebook until after I talked to her and I didn't see this post at school today while I ignored my professor and read your blog instead). I am beside myself with your good news and I am so, so, so glad you are in my life. I love you, girl. Lots, and lots!
ReplyDelete~Wendy