Joy
Wow. I'm a full time home care Occupational Therapist again! I think I'm good at it even. It's been the longest haul of my life. I am more exhausted than ever. I still see two of everything. My whole body aches. I run to the washroom often. I forget things if I don't have them written down, entered in my calendar and on reminder alarms. But I'm happy. And I'm doing what I love. And I'm using the aptitudes that run through my veins. I'm face to face with what I've just experienced. My emotions are constantly getting triggered but I feel supported enough to deal with it.
I'm hoping the rest of my life will fall into place in a balanced fashion.
As I drove to work Thursday, with the Tantalus range highlighted by the rising sun, I actually had a moment of joy, gratitude and equanimity. I'm often pleased and thankful and excited and passionate but I don't often feel pure joy, gratitude and peace. The last time I had that deep down feeling of being blessed was early on in my cancer journey. Now I know that sounds strange. But facing death has it's benefits. Appreciating life and "the moment." Feeling the love and support of everyone around you. This drive and a song reminded me some very precious and intense moments from May 2011.
From Timshel by Mumford and Sons
Death is at your doorstep, and it will steal your innocence, but it will not steal your substance
But you are not alone in this, and you are not alone in this
As brothers we will stand and we'll hold your hand, hold your hand
And you are the mother. The mother of your baby child, the one to whom you gave life
And you have your choices and these are what make man great his ladder to the stars
(Have a listen: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9qwDjwHc6BM
So the moments I reminisced about....
I was napping in a perfectly cool room with a perfectly cozy duvet. I was drowsy and was absorbing every molecule of my very first chemo treatment and it was demolishing the cancer. Jeffrey quietly entered the room with the phone in his hand. I needed to speak to my oncologist. Jeff looked deeply worried. I started out telling him how happy I was with my first treatment. I didn't even want to puke and I was oh so thankful for that. Dr. Tequila was happy for me. Then he said....(i can't recall the exact words)....
Dr. Tequila : "Your abdominal ultrasound results came in. There are some masses in your liver."
Me: "Oh, are they fat deposits?"
Dr. Tequila: "Not likely, there are too many and they are too big."
Hmm..... Jeff was leaning over me possibly holding my hand.
Me: "So what do we do now?"
Dr. Tequila: "We'll have to get a biopsy but it will take a couple of weeks. And I can send you to the Whistler CT for a scan in the meantime."
Me: "And if they are?"
Dr. Tequila: "We may have to change the chemo. Add the Herceptin sooner."
Me. "OK........."
That meant I may be Stage 4. That meant my chance of survival was only 20%....... why the hell did they put that survival statistic table in my BCCA endorsed breast cancer guide?????
I don't remember if we even cried. I suddenly felt a deep connection with my husband - I can't really describe it with words. But we both knew and even said aloud,"Oh well, We'll deal with it." Honestly, that moment made me fall in love with Jeff all over again because I knew he could handle it and would take care of the whole family. He quietly left the room and I got to work.
I had long conversations with God. I meditated golden light burning up every last cancer cell. I truly believed deep down to my bones that my chemo would be successful. I begged. For 10 years. To raise my family. And I knew my prayer was answered and my meditations were successful - all within about an hour of that phone call. Yes I continued the praying and pleading and meditating for weeks.
A week later I had my CT with contrast. And another week later I went for my biopsy. To that DREADED ultrasound room where the tech got all stressed and ran out to speak with radiologist several times but couldn't say a word to me. Boy I hate when they do that - happened at the boob factory too... Once again she went off to find the radiologist. I felt fear like a fire in my chest. But this time the radiologist actually came over and did the exam. All the time the two of them in hushed conversation.
Then finally..... Dr Rad says "Sorry but we can't find anything to biopsy. They are gone. I could just do a random sample but I don't see the point."
His assistant: "And the kidney one is gone too." Well, I didn't know about that one!
Me: "How can that happen? Were they fat deposits? Could the chemo have melted them?"
Dr. Rad "No, definitely not fat deposits. Your CT was clear too. It seems too soon for the chemo to have worked but I don't have another explanation for you."
Well I was just so excited I tried to text Jeff from under my gown. Caught! Then we celebrated over lunch. We had "dealt with it." With our combined love and strength and faith in medicine and God. And I was going to be OK. Dr. Tequila gave me the official diagnosis of Locally Advanced Breast Cancer (Stage/Grade 3c). By the end of treatment my odds improved - from 20 to 70% chance of never getting cancer again!!!!
I recall these moments often and I continue to ask for an explanation. There is none. The common one seems to be that chemo melted my uninvited liver mets. I believe that they disappeared through chemo and the power of love, my meditation and prayer and the grace of God. However, I still panic at times and think.... what will happen in 10 years?
For now, I'm working. I'm surrounded by the most amazing home care professionals with supportive leaders. In 24 hours our team experienced a birth and then a death. It's a tough roller coaster of emotion but it's all beautiful. And that is why I currently feel joy.
I wish for all my family, friends, colleagues, cancer alliances to have moments of utter joy, gratitude and equanimity even when faced with some of the most challenging moments of your life.
Peace out.
Patricia
I'm hoping the rest of my life will fall into place in a balanced fashion.
As I drove to work Thursday, with the Tantalus range highlighted by the rising sun, I actually had a moment of joy, gratitude and equanimity. I'm often pleased and thankful and excited and passionate but I don't often feel pure joy, gratitude and peace. The last time I had that deep down feeling of being blessed was early on in my cancer journey. Now I know that sounds strange. But facing death has it's benefits. Appreciating life and "the moment." Feeling the love and support of everyone around you. This drive and a song reminded me some very precious and intense moments from May 2011.
From Timshel by Mumford and Sons
Death is at your doorstep, and it will steal your innocence, but it will not steal your substance
But you are not alone in this, and you are not alone in this
As brothers we will stand and we'll hold your hand, hold your hand
And you are the mother. The mother of your baby child, the one to whom you gave life
And you have your choices and these are what make man great his ladder to the stars
(Have a listen: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9qwDjwHc6BM
So the moments I reminisced about....
I was napping in a perfectly cool room with a perfectly cozy duvet. I was drowsy and was absorbing every molecule of my very first chemo treatment and it was demolishing the cancer. Jeffrey quietly entered the room with the phone in his hand. I needed to speak to my oncologist. Jeff looked deeply worried. I started out telling him how happy I was with my first treatment. I didn't even want to puke and I was oh so thankful for that. Dr. Tequila was happy for me. Then he said....(i can't recall the exact words)....
Dr. Tequila : "Your abdominal ultrasound results came in. There are some masses in your liver."
Me: "Oh, are they fat deposits?"
Dr. Tequila: "Not likely, there are too many and they are too big."
Hmm..... Jeff was leaning over me possibly holding my hand.
Me: "So what do we do now?"
Dr. Tequila: "We'll have to get a biopsy but it will take a couple of weeks. And I can send you to the Whistler CT for a scan in the meantime."
Me: "And if they are?"
Dr. Tequila: "We may have to change the chemo. Add the Herceptin sooner."
Me. "OK........."
That meant I may be Stage 4. That meant my chance of survival was only 20%....... why the hell did they put that survival statistic table in my BCCA endorsed breast cancer guide?????
I don't remember if we even cried. I suddenly felt a deep connection with my husband - I can't really describe it with words. But we both knew and even said aloud,"Oh well, We'll deal with it." Honestly, that moment made me fall in love with Jeff all over again because I knew he could handle it and would take care of the whole family. He quietly left the room and I got to work.
I had long conversations with God. I meditated golden light burning up every last cancer cell. I truly believed deep down to my bones that my chemo would be successful. I begged. For 10 years. To raise my family. And I knew my prayer was answered and my meditations were successful - all within about an hour of that phone call. Yes I continued the praying and pleading and meditating for weeks.
A week later I had my CT with contrast. And another week later I went for my biopsy. To that DREADED ultrasound room where the tech got all stressed and ran out to speak with radiologist several times but couldn't say a word to me. Boy I hate when they do that - happened at the boob factory too... Once again she went off to find the radiologist. I felt fear like a fire in my chest. But this time the radiologist actually came over and did the exam. All the time the two of them in hushed conversation.
Then finally..... Dr Rad says "Sorry but we can't find anything to biopsy. They are gone. I could just do a random sample but I don't see the point."
His assistant: "And the kidney one is gone too." Well, I didn't know about that one!
Me: "How can that happen? Were they fat deposits? Could the chemo have melted them?"
Dr. Rad "No, definitely not fat deposits. Your CT was clear too. It seems too soon for the chemo to have worked but I don't have another explanation for you."
Well I was just so excited I tried to text Jeff from under my gown. Caught! Then we celebrated over lunch. We had "dealt with it." With our combined love and strength and faith in medicine and God. And I was going to be OK. Dr. Tequila gave me the official diagnosis of Locally Advanced Breast Cancer (Stage/Grade 3c). By the end of treatment my odds improved - from 20 to 70% chance of never getting cancer again!!!!
I recall these moments often and I continue to ask for an explanation. There is none. The common one seems to be that chemo melted my uninvited liver mets. I believe that they disappeared through chemo and the power of love, my meditation and prayer and the grace of God. However, I still panic at times and think.... what will happen in 10 years?
For now, I'm working. I'm surrounded by the most amazing home care professionals with supportive leaders. In 24 hours our team experienced a birth and then a death. It's a tough roller coaster of emotion but it's all beautiful. And that is why I currently feel joy.
I wish for all my family, friends, colleagues, cancer alliances to have moments of utter joy, gratitude and equanimity even when faced with some of the most challenging moments of your life.
Peace out.
Patricia
Beautiful post Patricia. Thank you.
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