Day 20 -- Homecoming Parade

It was Homecoming at the high school in the town where I live.  What is it about marching bands?  They always make me cry.  Even when my daughters weren't marching in them, they still made me cry.  I feel a sense of nostalgia and a swelling of pride.  Is that weird?  Then sitting at the football game again watching my daughter in the marching band, I thought of the games that I cheered at and wondered if I'll be around to watch my grandchildren march in the band at parades and football games.

Day 19 -- Laughter is the Best Medicine

Today while listening to NPR on my way to my haircut, I heard about some research showing how humor is improving the lives of Alzheimer's patients.  I think they said the research was done in Australia, but all I caught was an interview w/ an Alzheimer's expert at Mayo Clinics in Rochester.  He said that people who are able to make light of serious illnesses respond better to treatments and have a better quality of life.  Guess I've been taking the right approach by making jokes about my cancer.  Apparently laughter is the best medicine.

Day 18 -- The "C" Word

I knew it would happen. I just hoped it wouldn't happen quite so fast.  I knew that in the process of waiting for my next CT, I would start to question every ache and pain.  My throat is a little sore, and I'm trying to trace the source, wondering if it's the lymph nodes.  Several of my students have been out w/ strep throat and tonsillitis so I just have to pump-up my immune system w/ lots of fresh fruits and vegetable.   I continue to drink a Danactive every morning as I've done for the last five years.  Having some green tea w/ honey as I write this.  I just hate second-guessing my body.  After the brain aneurysm, I was asked if I worried about headaches.  I said, "No, not until you mentioned it."  I should've gone to the college volleyball game tonight.....cleaning house gives me too much time to think.

On a more positive note.....I guess..... While modeling an icebreaker speech for my students, I found myself talking freely about my health issues past and present as well as telling them that I'm not afraid to die.  I remember Mom said that to me a year or so before she died.  All I could do was look dumbfounded at her, kinda like my students looked today when I said the same thing.  My students have known about my diagnosis from the first day of the semester, and I've tried to keep my discussions about my health very light and positive.  One day when a student gave me a ludicrous answer to a question, I responded jokingly, "You're killing me!"  The students looked mortified until I said, "What? Someone w/ cancer can't say things like that?"  I'm making it my mission to take some of the fear and taboo out of the "C" word.  In convincing them, I'm convincing myself.

Day 17 -- Mammogram

I'm realizing that, while this blog has helped me through my treatments, it's forcing me to think about my cancer every day.  But then cancer has been a part of my life since I was four so rarely has a day gone by in 43 years that I haven't thought about cancer.  Today I was reminded about breast cancer when I went for my yearly mammogram.  They call it a screening, as if I'm going to see the opening of a new motion picture.  Well, this screening was a double feature.

Cancer is becoming as prevalent as the common cold.  And w/ as much research funded by various cancer organizations, they'll probably find a cure for cancer before they do for the cold.  When I talk w/ people about their cancer stories, and everyone has either a personal testimonial or that of a friend or loved one, we always talk about a patient's demise.  My mother's doctor's words still echo in my head, "It's not the cancer that will end your life," he told her, "but rather some residual effect of the chemo and radiation."  On my mom's death certificate, her cause of death is listed as pneumonia.  Is somebody looking at the stats?  Are they tracing all these residual deaths?  Are chemo and radiation therapies doing more harm than good?  Well, I got zapped w/ small amounts of radiation again this afternoon.  All these small zaps over months and years have to add to something.

Day 16 -- Getting Back to Normal

The lymph node in my neck is back to normal size.  The node above my left ankle is normal and no longer feels like it's bruised.  Crossing my arms over my stomach is no longer uncomfortable.  I got a little winded climbing the hills yesterday, but tonight playing tennis, I was running after balls like I was 27 rather than 47.  Now I wait.  My next CT is two days before Thanksgiving.  My biggest challenge now will be to keep myself up mentally, emotionally, an physically.  My students will help w/ the mental part; my friends and family will help w/ the emotional part; and my love for an active lifestyle will help the physical.  My prognosis is good. 

Day 15 -- Breaking Point

Today was a perfect Autumn day........clear skies, bright sun, no bugs.  I went for a three-hour hike at Fort Defiance State Park, found a lovely spot next to the creek, and wrote this poem:

Breaking Point

If I yell, "Uncle," will it stop?
Will She stop testing me?
I shouldn't have thought it.
Back in seventh grade confirmation class,
I asked, "God, please don't test me."
I had never failed a test before,
And this one was worth a lot of points.
My soul.
For 27 years She obliged,
And then She tested me with cancer, a brain aneurysm, and a child with Crohn's Disease.
My faith held.  We survived.
Five years later, She tested me again and took my mother.
My faith held. I survived.
Two years later She tested me again with another cancer.
Now I struggle with my faith everyday.
Each morning I wake with a hope that dissipates with the light.
How much more can I take?
At what point will I break?

The river finds a way.
Over a stone
Under a log
Around a bend.
The sun finds a way to
Burn through the clouds
Rise in the east
Set in the west.
I must find a way
Back to my faith
Forward to hope
Away from the breaking point.

Day 14 -- Final Infusion

I had my fourth, and hopefully, final infusion today.  They sped this infusion up so it only took about 90 minutes.  I must say, "I handled it brilliantly!!"  No side effects.  All lymph nodes that had previously been in an uproar have been silenced. I feel fantastic.   Three of my dear tennis friends went with me so of course we had to have lunch and do some shopping afterward.  Friends, food, and fun trumps an infusion and reminds me that the upcoming two months waiting for my next abdominal CT will be more easily borne.  This cancer is not a life sentence.....wait, actually it is.  It's a conviction and constant reminder to live.  I am very blessed, but I seem to need constant reminders to enjoy my life.  When I was sick in 2004, I heard a voice in my head telling me I was being given a second chance.  I knew I was cured and for the next several years felt a renewed vitality for my life.  These past two years, however, have been difficult w/ the death of my mother and my divorce, and I lost my zest for living.  I'm regaining my gusto and realizing that everything does truly happen for a reason.  Seven years ago the brain aneurysm led the doctors to the kidney cancer.  Now, seven years later, my checkups for the kidney cancer led the doctors to the lymphoma.  The hand of God is at work in my life........that's a life sentence.