When I call on my village for support, they practically trip over each other to send emails, provide hugs or lend sympathetic ears. I'm a lucky woman.
As you can imagine, Michael and I had a rough day. We're still in shock (and maybe even in a bit of denial). We're so very, very sad. If sadness could ooze out of our pores, we'd be covered in it. And we're angry. I am so angry I could throw a good old-fashioned temper tantrum complete with screaming and kicking. I'm tired tonight, but this morning I felt wound up so tight I thought I'd lose it if I was asked to do something I considered inane. And trust me, right now a lot of issues and events that held some significance to me yesterday I think are absolutely ridiculously stupid wastes of time today.
Nothing like a good old crisis to put life back in perspective.
Of course, I'm now over analyzing every twinge in my body. That back ache (that I've had several times over the past year or so) could be the cancer. Or that discomfort in my abdomen, which is a regular occurrence, is a warning sign. It doesn't help I have a cold and my sinuses are draining into my belly or that I'm super upset, which makes my gut ache more. I've come to the conclusion I can't rationally assess anything going on with my body right now.
But yesterday, despite the cold, I felt pretty darn good. Go figure. Nothing like a doc telling you the cancer could be back and growing in the deep dark recesses of your belly to send you into a psychological tailspin.
While I say I can't fight another summer or pull out quotes from articles talking about the lack of proof of positive thinking, I don't really mean it. I will fight as long and as hard as I possibly can. I will be positive again, and believe in myself and the treatment. But not right now. I need time to grieve and come to terms with the fact the cancer might be back.
Of course, my awespme sister researched other causes for elevating CA-125 levels last night. One plausible cause could be an internal infection. Maybe my gallbladder is acting up. Maybe some other organ (hopefully one of the non-essential ones) is infected. I'd be happy to undergo some surgery to fix it up, and perhaps remove the gallbadder and fix the hernia, if it meant I didn't have cancer again. It's amazing what becomes perfect acceptable when the alternative is far worse.
The next five weeks, and possibly beyond, are going to be an emotional roller coaster. I can't predict what my reactions or emotional state will be each day. I am going to try to enjoy myself as much as I can. I've got some good things to look forward to and I may just plan some additional fun events, just because I can.
Thank you to all who stepped forward to offer support today. It really means a lot to me. With you, I can get through this - as crappy as it may be.
One day at a time and die cancer die.
Tina
No comments:
Post a Comment