There Is No Stage Five

I feel increasingly lucky to have the paths between the feet of tall trees to go for walks. It's moving meditation. Heart-shaped things on these walks have become my breadcrumbs. I'll find them like an acknowledgment, a sly little wink, before they change shape as I pass and the heart transforms into just two leaves, just the bark of the tree, just a rock in the trail, just a slippery footprint. It’s a sweet little yes. Yes, this is exactly where you should be. Yes, I see you. Yes, you saw me. But if I look back at it, my perspective is different, and the heart isn’t there anymore. It’s only…forest. Just because it isn’t, doesn’t mean it wasn’t.   It’s one of my favorite things. I had new scans in June, so at my last chemo appointment, in a most unceremonious way, a new-to-me nurse practitioner reported that my scans were stable and bloodwork looked perfect. Not even a trophy, and even a certificate of participation.   Stable and shiny is so fucking hard fought.   I’d had the M

 Oh dear.  Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear. You know what looks really bad?? A BLOG about CANCER that HASN'T BEEN UPDATED IN 6 MONTHS !!! Hands up if you thought mine bucket hath been klonked! I've been writing quite a bit and sometimes even think it'll turn into an update for the BLOG about  CANCER  that  HASN'T BEEN UPDATED IN 6 MONTHS,  but then it becomes something more for myself than for public consumption and so here we are. Not great at the updates, but very much alive and thriving. Did I mention that chemo and I are going to do this little dance for- maybe -ever? Sometimes I want to know how long forever is, and sometimes I don't, so I'm still not sure how to answer the question when asked. "Indefinitely" pops out most often, while I squelch, "I guess as long as I want to keep waking up in the morning? *shrug*" Too dark? Ok, fine. Hi, do you need a walk? The very, very good news: I've finagled my way into a longer cycle between infusi

I'm so grateful to be going through treatment at this time of year.  The trees and I look the same.  Familiar, but different.  Shedding old seasons, quiet, hibernating, but very, very much surviving.  Except for darling sharkoma, who has been greedily slurping its chemo and then complaining why it feels dead inside.  Bottoms up, y'all!  Happy New Year! If you were to ask me if I'm superstitious, there would be a long pause before a 50:50 shot at answering yes or no.  (I'm also a libra, so tralala) Sometimes it's just a little thing that can make the difference in happiness, confidence, whatever.  Keeping things the same for the sake of familiarity is sometimes all ya got.  I hesitate sometimes to write an update because things change--and have changed SO many times--that I feel like I'm just telling you about the same rollercoaster ride that I keep taking turns on except maybe its painted a different color.  Alas, that's just the truth of how this goes... He

 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