Life of CC

It was bit anticlimactic. My last taxol happened to be 3 weeks ago, not today as I thought it would be. I was already having issues wrapping my brain around finishing this round’s active treatment and entering the wait and see phase. Wait and see with my bottle of Ativan maybe. That would be tequila but my liver objects. 

I have been in active aggressive treatment for 7 months. Most only do 6 rounds.  I’ve done 9 and I’d keep going but my painful neuropathy indicates I need to stop if I don’t want permanent damage. I am thankful that they are treating me like I’m going to be around for some time yet. 

However I live and breathe a fear of the cancer overcoming my body. That it will start to grow again. Dr Tequila assures me the plan is for me to “survive.” He has back up plans and is “enthusiastic” that we will achieve this goal with my current treatment. He assured me that I am on the best regime possible and have very good options available. One being the new super-herceptin (Kadcyla). This also causes neuropathy so he wants my nerves healthy. I do trust him and believe in my plan. But I have PTSD typical of all cancer survivors. A sore throat is cancer, a back strain is a bone met and so on. I lose dear friends to the awful beast.  When I fall asleep in the afternoon I have nightmares about cancer. I wake shaky and fearful for the rest of the day. If anyone has some advice to share on how to deal with the constant fear please feel free to share it.

But I go on. I take a breath and keep on living. I parent, I make dinner, I deal with the a broken refrigerator and crashed hard drive. I try to stay positive  and active because its really the only way when you have kids and a very supportive network around you. 

The best news lately has been that the province is now funding Perjeta. Once again, BC leads the pack. I was told that it may happen in the new year so this is a pleasant surprise. I don’t think they would ever tell but I believe my advocacy helped it along: letters written to health care and government; media coverage of my fundraiser in Whistler. I was going for “diplomatic squeaky wheel.” I’m not done yet. There is still a delay in getting meds funded and for those with few options that isn’t fair.

Back to my current experience. With the end of active treatment I feel as though I have been put in a life boat and pushed out to sea. Alone with very little food and drink and no instructions for survival or compass to help me find my way.  The waves are high and unpredictable. The sharks and jellyfish lurk below the surface. There is a tiger living under the tarp - oh no, that’s a famous movie, not my story. Anyhow you get the picture.  

I guess it’s time to truly live again. Find the passions and every day activities that feed the cure. Look into complementary options. Do the real healing. When you get thrown to the lions so fast in cancer there is often no time to really process and heal. Now it’s time. So that the beast can’t come back and ruin my life. It is really life or death. I choose life.