A Life of Illusion

"We let people invent us as they please.  The truth we keep to ourselves."
 (from the book Visitation Street by Ivy Pochada)

More on the above quote later - it's more important to let you know that my most recent PET/CT results were pretty good.  Not quite as good as my last couple of scans (in which no progression at all occurred) but nothing that would lead to a change in treatment protocol at all.  Simply a slight (the report refers to it as "insignificant") brightening of a couple of the existing tumors.  NO new tumors, NO lymph node involvement, NO activity in any of the major organs (Hey!  No jokes about "no brain activity!").  The onc says to continue with the current chemo regimen and we'll talk in October about whether or not I want to radiate the large tumor in my scapula (we have discussed this regularly at our visits) as a preventive measure.  So once again I am freed from the immediate contemplation of my own mortality and I can live the next few months in blissful denial of my cancer and its inevitable outcome.

I spent this evening going back and re-reading many of my older posts, sort of re-visiting the journey so far (hey bonus - right? - that it's not over).  My overwhelming thought after reading them (especially the earliest posts) was how difficult it had to have been for many of you to read about my illness, its treatments, and the raw emotions associated with both.  I notice (as I mentioned in my last post) that I have spent more time recently writing about events vs. feelings and it gave me over to wonder - am I doing that to spare you all?  To spare myself the difficulties of introspection?  If I keep the truths to myself - if I let you "invent" me - will it make it easier on us all to continue the journey towards the inevitable?  If I'm not happy - will you still love me? (Um, I'm sure you all get that these questions are rhetorical...)

Enough armchair psychology or I'll start to expound upon why I believe that one reason Walter White is breaking bad is in order to push those he loves away from him (indeed, to make them hate him) before he dies so they won't miss him as much - oh yeah, been there (and for the record I'm totally Team Jesse for those of you who are as obsessed with this show as I am).  As always, it does help to "blog it out" when I'm feeling anxious, knowing that you my faithful friends and readers see past the temporary darkness in me to the truer, happier light within.

Blessings and Love to All.


 

Forty Shades of Green

From the countryside, to the castles, to the pubs there was not one part of our trip to Ireland that I did not love.  OK, well the whole sprained ankle thing I could have done without but even that brought its share of laughs especially when THE VERY NEXT DAY I tumbled unceremoniously down an embankment at St. Mary's Cathedral, bringing Lisa practically to the brink of uncontrolled sobbing hysteria over my well-being.  Not to worry.  I - we - all soldiered on through the rest of our trip with a few mild adjustments along the way.

What a stunning country.  What welcoming people.  What a great lamb stew I had at Paddy's Restaurant in Killarney.  What fun it was flirting with sweet, retiring Brian Carroll at our hotel bar - he was literally retiring, at age 54, from a company that installs secondary containment and was out celebrating with some pals, one of whom (Paddy) did try SO very hard to woo Lisa into having a little extra fun (she bravely resisted).  What an experience it was driving on the "wrong" side of the road (much harder on the passenger than the driver by the way) - Lisa was a superstar navigating the Dingle Peninsula and I held my own in busy, narrow Limerick.  What unexpected treasures we encountered when we ventured away from our admittedly loose itinerary - waterfalls and carriage rides and witches' taverns.  What history we became immersed in - Blarney Castle, the Book of Kells, the Guinness Storehouse.  What fun we had listening to Irish pub songs both in the car and in the Temple Bar area in Dublin (still can't get "Wagon Wheel" out of my head).  What a wonderful way to spend time with two people that I love and cherish so very much - Taryn and Lisa.  What a trip - yes, figuratively and literally! (And...there really are forty shades of green in this lovely country)

Alas, vacation is over (but not the memories) and the real world intrudes.

It is almost time for my routine PET Scan (should happen in the next week or so) and so, of course, it gets me to contemplating my health situation on a more big-picture level than my usual "I woke up!  I'm breathing! Yay!"  In a couple of months, it will be 19 years since my original cancer diagnosis; it will be 9 years since my metastatic diagnosis; and it will be 2 years on chemotherapy.  I kept thinking today that no matter how many good results I get on my tests, no matter how good I feel, no matter even if my doctors told me that I was in full remission, I will ALWAYS fear.  I will never again be able to NOT think about it.  I may very well live to 80 (hey, it could happen) - on days like today, to me it just means that I would have had 45 years of thinking about it.  And that makes me feel sad and tired.

It's true that I've become a little less fearful over the past year or so given the positive results while undergoing the current chemo regimen (hey, don't we all play pretend when it comes to our own mortality?).  It's just that I know that can turn on a dime - true, I suppose, for all of us, but so much more likely for me.  It makes me envious (haha - green?) of the time BC (before cancer), when my only worries revolved around Taryn and her health and her safety and her future.  It is also true that I am more present than I have ever been in my life - but being more present doesn't mean the worries go away.  They are just a little easier to put in the back of my mind - except on days like today.

I realize I've spent the past several blog posts focusing on what is going on in my life (well, some of it anyhow) and not on what is going on in my head - if I truly want to be healthy, I suppose I have to do both.  This too shall pass - but as it has not yet at the time of this post, well there you have it.  It still sucks to have cancer.

Blessings and Love to All.