There Is No Stage Five

For the first time in almost 5 years, I've (finally?) been confronted by cancer.  This summer, things started to change--the tumors have been slowly (ahem, relentlessly) growing, but also I've started to feel affected, which hasn't been true up until this point.  It's impossible to tease apart what is "affected by treatment" and what is "affected by cancer."  For example: inflammation following a treatment isn't unexpected, but inflammation can also feel and look like growth.  But which is it?  Also...multiple things can be true.  All we have to definitively go on is picture days, where we can see and measure and compare.  My latest MRI says: the growth continues.  My latest body says: ummm, about the check engine light...can you help me, please?   At this point, I've talked to so many oncologists and naturopaths from so many places, I should've been keeping a phone tree.  (Which one of you is bringing orange slices next week???)  It'

 The number of drafts that I have unpublished between the last episode of The Cancer Show and now is fairly ridiculous.  I'm not without millions of little and big updates, but also, the update that I really want hasn't happened yet.  The cancer free update remains elusive.  I've talked to a lot of new doctors who have their own thoughts about what to do and what not to do, and also not to forget, what they can legally talk about and what they can't.  It all boiled down to a wicked case of cancer fatigue.   Ask 10 doctors about how to treat/therapize/blast into orbit a few sarcomas and you'll get 50 answers.  At least.  While I've never felt the need to vilify cancer, I can say, it does suck because no one (NO ONE) knows how to cure it.  Some things work beautifully for some people and those same things are completely ineffective (or worse) in someone else.  Meanwhile, time goes by and friends are rediagnosed, some are lost to cancer, and new ones are diagnosed.

I was really bad at calculus.  Like deer in the headlights, what in the world language is this? awful at calculus.  (Umm, I was also maybe a little casual about showing up all of the time, and I *ahem* accidentally missed the day that basically explained everything and from then on out I was pretty screwed, so go to class, kids.)  It took 2 drops and 3 semesters, but I finally found a professor and a tutor that helped it make sense--calculus is a puzzle, and it was nearly fun!  I think I ended up with a B- in the class and that was like winning the freakin' olympics!                             At this point, I have a collection of medical oncologists getting dusty on the shelf and none of them could make the cancer puzzle work for me.  Earlier this week, I had another consult at Fred Hutch (a cancer research/treatment center in Seattle with a sarcoma specialty group, formerly the SCCA) with yet another medical oncologist.  This doctor was different.  We ended up having a really gr

I had a dream a few nights ago that my body was giving me a tour of...myself.  I entered a room that was offensively white, including the cabinetry along the back wall.  "What's this?" I asked my body.  "This is where we keep all of the tools," it said proudly, as everything was clearly organized and tucked away fastidiously.  I paused.  "Why...why aren't you....WHY AREN'T YOU USING THE TOOLS?!?!?"  My body had been squirreling away the tools for a rainy day, for in case of emergency, for time of thinning resources.  BODY, HELLO???  *sounds alarm* USE YOUR DAMN TOOLS!!! Anyway.  So, my body is just a crow collecting shiny things to smile at.  That's how it's been going lately.   My latest CT has sort of a mixed result--just because staying in the muddy grey area has become quite homey.  The awesome news is there's no evidence of spread, and bagel bite, though being mostly ignored at this point, hasn't changed much.  The liver le

Like everyone, I have phases where I want education--I can't take in enough information, more is more.  Then there's a time to sit with that information.  Input is minimal because what I've already been given is processing.  My body has hung up a Do Not Disturb sign and is processing, but my brain is in curious consumption mode.   The joy of going slowly There wasn't a conscious moment where this changed, but my mindset for doing stuff is evolving.  If there's an opportunity to move more slowly through something, I do it.  I look at things a little longer, allow silence to have more time, I stay in discomfort for an extra breath.  This is starkly opposite to where I've lived for a very long time.  Success was measured by getting through a to-do list, and more success was surely getting through a to-do list that seemed impossibly long.  How efficient, how productive!--how stressful and hectic!  I'm not without to-do lists now, but success isn't getting th

One of our junior high PE activities was to run a timed mile on the track.  Four laps.  Mr Wallace, one of the best teachers I've ever had, explained the four laps like this (I paraphrase because junior high was long ago, but the point of the story is still valid): Lap 1, whhheeeeeeee, no problem!  Lap 2, feeling warmed up, found my groove.  Lap 3, UGGGGGH.  Lap 4, wheeeeee, almost done! Lately, I've been on lap 3.  A patience game, a mental game, a game of trust.  Three months isn't that long, but neither is 3 laps.  But when you're in it this far, but also not nearing the end either, it can be a perfect recipe for letting thoughts wander.  Can I do it?  Is anything happening?  Are the right things happening?  Am I capable of doing this thing that is by many measures "impossible?" (Dear self: the answer is always yes.) Transitioning from having active treatment and therapies to then being left to percolate was complete BLISS in the beginning.  My veins were t