Mental shift

Along with the physical realities my CT report highlighted, its words also caused some mental shifts in my brain. I'm not sure if it was the doc's facial expressions, a turn of phrase he used or the harsh realities of the situation described in my report, but I'm now in a different, less naive place than I was at the beginning of last week.

I hope I'm wrong, but I'm starting to believe treatment will now consume more of a year than time in remission will. In fact, I'm at the point where I just hope I get to have remission, even if it's for a few months before I have to start treatment (chemotherapy, clinical trial, something new and novel) again.

Up until last week, I've believed I could get through my six treatments, do relatively well with the side effects (again) and then have six or so months of remission where I could get stronger, go on vacations, get back to work, get into an exercise routine, etc. Then I'd get on a clinical trial (with or without chemotherapy) or start chemo again (the same or a different/new kind) and try kicking this cancer to the curb again. I'd be able to repeat the cycle of fight, then remission and then a reoccurence down the road.

But that appointment, along with the fact it's taking so long for these tumours to shrink and respond to treatment, as well as my stomach issues got my mind stomping on those highly held, and probably pie-in-the-sky beliefs. I also got the "this-is-a-chronic-disease" impression from Dr S and that I'll never be able to go back to the way I was before. No, he didn't come out and say it. It's just the feeling I got.

I also suspect I won't be able to beat this bout of cancer with six rounds and that if I continue to tolerate the chemotherapy drugs well, I'll have more tacked onto the end so we can continue to shrink the tumours and possibly bring on remission.

This entire situation feels like a big bucket of cool water thrown on my hopefulness. The H2O isn't cold and I can't give up on having time and opportunity, but it does make me think differently. There is so much that's unknown and I don't know what to think or what's going to happen. I even learned about a woman who had chemotherapy 17 times in 12 years. That's a lot of treatment, but it's also 12 years of living. If that's what it takes, that's what I'll do.

But as a result of this brain shift, I've realized I'm still living my life in limbo a little bit, waiting for that time when I am in remission. I have plans for a special trip when I make it there. While I can still anticipate a tropical or European jaunt for that time, I can't put other smaller milestones on hold.

Now that's not to say that on my good days, I have to go back to being the gung-ho, list-making, type A personality I am when I'm well. There is nothing wrong with taking naps, being contemplative, writing in my journal, slowing down, making more time for family and friends. In fact, that's what life should be about. But I also have to plan little trips and special events. I have to take advantage of the days when I do feel well enough because if I'm going to be in treatment for a long time, they're going to be all I have.

I know this blog is sad and I don't want to come off as being hopeless. But these potential realities make me feel melancholy, angry, thwarted, disappointed, disillusioned, overwhelmed and contemplative. It's part of the journey I'm sharing with you.

Tina