I think the hardest part of metastatic cancer is the fact that I never get a break from cancer. Never. And that is very annoying. I often joke during my Alcoholics Anonymous Meetings that I just want a little denial, a little pretending that this isn't going on. Can I make believe I don't have cancer? Can I play the role of the never cancer ridden for just one day? The other recovering drunks seem to get the joke.
Sadly, I haven't gotten the chance to be in denial yet. From chemo, to recovery from chemo, to mastectomy/reconstruction and resulting muscle spasms, and now blood clot. I live a life of doctor appointments, medical procedures, and scans. Regularly I am thrown into abject fear of my own demise by yet another health scare. I am getting tired of it. No. I am tired of it. Today I heard a woman say that, after nine surgeries, she had gotten so sick of doctors, that she did not go back to a doctor for two years. Sadly, that would not be possible for me, if I want to live. But it sure sounds tempting.
My oncologist is an incredible doctor, and I am very grateful for her care. But she is a bit like an over-protective mother. Now, considering that my own over-protective mother is no longer here, I am grateful that there is a being in this world who shows me that kind of care. But at the same time, I could use a few less scans. Tomorrow the scan is an MRI of the lumbar spine, a scan I call the tube within a tube, me inside an MRI machine, my head and neck tucked into a smaller tube. It is a scan that requires a great deal of zen to endure, with the keywords being possible claustrophobia. I had this same scan over a year ago, a small spot found on my tail bone, and the oncologist wants to check that spot again. Since I just had a bone scan on May 17, I'm not quite sure why this additional scan is needed. To me, this is another reminder that I have cancer, and I am not thrilled.
I'm knocking on wood that tomorrow's MRI will simply confirm that the spot on my coccyx is the result of a childhood fall, some jerk pulling the chair out from under me as I began to sit at my classroom desk. Maybe then I can get some time and distance between me and the medical field. I mean they are nice people and I enjoy them, but I'd like to date other people. At my oncologist office this week, I told the staff that they were my longest relationship. One person's response was that was okay as long as I didn't marry them. And I don't want to marry them either. Cute nurses and doctors be damned. I deserve a non-medical world. So with my cauterized nose and tube within a tube MRI, maybe I can grab a few days, go back in time to when the worst I could say about my health was that I have high cholesterol. So I'll say it. I have high cholesterol, damnit. That's me. High cholesterol woman. Skip the breasts. They're not real anyway. I'm out of here. Later.