Admit

According to the dictionary, the definition of admit is to acknowledge as valid or true, often unwillingly or hesitantly.

Last week, I admitted verbally - perhaps for the first time to someone outside my immediate circle - that I am sick. I actually used those words, "I am sick."

I think I've only really accepted it mentally myself recently. Oh, I've known, and the thought has lurked in the back of my mind, but to actually say and believe the words is entirely different.

I was talking with my social worker about the difference between the current fight with cancer, admitting this time I feel sick. That's such a big shift from the first two times because I would always say, "I have cancer" or "I've been diagnosed with cancer" or "I'm currently fighting cancer." I never said I was sick.

Even when I was suffering after the chemo, I'd say I was experiencing side effects. It was all related to the drugs. The awfulness was mostly from the chemicals - and they were working to take away the discomfort of the ascities and rapidly shrinking the tumours in my belly. The side effects were because the drugs were working and because I was getting better so it was far easier to tolerate them.

I still felt strong. I bounced back quickly from the surgery. I responded well to the chemotherapy with the dark days only throwing minor shadows over the many good days. I knew what needed to be done so I could get back to work, working out, getting out and being Tina. And that's exactly what I did. Now I feel I may never be able to return to that state again. I feel I may NOT bounce back, get strong and do all those engaging things that made up my life.

I don't know exactly the timing of this shift in attitude. It must have been gradual or I may have been in denial for quite some time. I know while I was participating in the Olaparib and the Regorafinib clinical trials I didn't consider myself sick. Even though I was experiencing some debilitating side effects and had to have a drainage tube put in my abdomen (that had me feeling pretty crappy), I think because I was using a new and novel drug that could have been a treatment breakthrough, I thought of myself more as a guinea pig; someone working with the doctors to improve ovarian cancer care. I wasn't a "normal" ovarian cancer patient receiving a standard care. I could also blame some of the side effects on the clinical trial drugs instead of believing it's the cancer having its way with my body.

The fact it's taking so long for this standard care to even touch the cancer probably is a big factor in my sickness admission. I'm disillusioned that after 4-1/2 rounds of chemo, I still have ascities, my CA-125 is still at 211 and I don't feel well.

I feel the cancer is so much stronger and that it's continuing to try to take over. It feels like a bunch of big, dark monsters, skulking in the fluid and shadows, hiding from the ninjas and cackling with glee at how much power they have. Those skillful ninjas are doing their best and keep relentlessly tackling the dark creatures, but they tire from their complicated martial arts, get beaten back or lose track of the monsters before the new reinforcements are sent in. 

This feeling makes me wonder if I'll actually get to a state where there's only microscopic disease or no evidence of disease (NED) so I can engage in some of the more normal aspects of my life. Admitting I'm sick makes me wonder if I'll get better.

All this contemplation and admission makes me feel weak and sad. It also makes me wonder about all the activities I may never be able to do or do again. During my last two rounds of fighting cancer, I wholeheartedly believed I was going to go whitewater rafting when I recovered. It didn't happen for a variety of reasons last summer, but now I wonder if I'll ever be able to do that desired activity. I wonder if I'll ever be able to sky dive again. Will I ever be physically fit and working out again? So many, "Will I ever . . . " statements flit through my mind.

As a result, I'm wondering if I have to revise my expectations so their more realistic. Or am I now setting my expectations too low? Am I giving up in areas where it isn't necessary (or not yet)? Do I need to be more patient to give treatment(s) a time to work?

I know I have a semi-defeatist attitutude today. Or then again, is it a realistic one? It's so hard to see clearly on either side of that blurry line sometimes. And of course, it depends on the day. Maybe I shouldn't be writing this type of blog on day four post chemo when I'm physically and emotionally wrecked. But it's how I feel today, so it's what I share.

Unfortunately, on days like these it's so easy for me to slip into the mindset of what life could be like if the cancer continues to take hold. I tell Michael we need to live positively and make the most of each day, but some days that's so hard to do.

But don't worry. Even though I admit to being sick, I do not conceed to the sickness. I have not given up on the fight nor gone down for the count. As I always say, I have too many wonderful things in my life. So I close with very appropriate quote, that I've used before:

"Courage doesn't always roar. Sometimes courage is the quiet voice at the end of the day saying, "I will try again tomorrow." 

- Mary Anne Radmacher

Tina