Courage

Healing takes courage, and we all have courage, even if we have to dig a little to find it.
- Tori Amos

Today, I've been focusing on healing. I've napped, sat in the fresh air, gone for a walk and rested. I look and feel good, I just have to believe my insides are healing as well as the outside.

I talked to the resident this morning about the risks of feeding me on Monday. If the hole isn't closed and food makes it into the abdomen, I could develop another infection. They'll watch for increased pain, fever and monitor my white blood cells for signs of infection.

I'm excited about getting something to eat on Monday, but I'm also nervous. I'm afraid of the potential negative side effects. It's a little ridiculous considering I'm so anxious to eat after nine days with nothing but ice chips. I was also a bit nervous about getting the NG tube out last night, afraid I'd start to feel nauseous without its stomach-acid-sucking function. But I feel great. I love not being tethered, with a sore throat and an elephant nose.

I guess I'm scared because of all the bad experiences I've had over the past week and a half. I've had too many painful and negative things happen to me in the hospital. In the past, I've usually had surgery, recovered nicely, healed quickly and checked out earlier than expected.

Although, when my son was born, I developed a severe form of pre-eclampsia called HELLP syndrome and almost died. But after I was out of the woods medically, I healed quickly and headed home to be a new mom.

With chemotherapy the side effects were awful, but they weren't necessarily unexpected.

I've never had so many unexpected and unplesant experiences at one time - from emergency surgery to a long-tedious, food-free stay - so I'm discouraged and frightened. And as the resident told me this morning, I'm not a "typical" patient because of the cancer making its home in my abdomen. It's insidious and large presence complicates my medical situation. As a result, the doctors can't compare me to others to guess on healing time. I'm unique. I guess I'm a great learning opportunity.

And maybe that's why I'm going through all of this. Maybe the medical system can learn from me, my experience, my reaction to Regorafinib or steroids (or whatever caused this all), etc. But, ultimately, I want them to learn how to make it better - for me and for others with cancer. I want to get better.

And that does take courage. So I'm trying hard to dig deep and find the strength to believe, be positive and not get discouraged. After all I've been through, that's far harder than it used to be, but I'm trying.

Tina