Show Me a Picture

Actually, don't. Monday I met with my oncologist and asked her to show me the CT scan of my liver (aka Beatrice).  The idea was that once I saw Beatrice's less spotty surface, I would feel more hopeful, grateful for the progress made. Indeed, Beatrice was far less spotty and I am grateful for the progress.  But there's something about actually seeing the spots of cancer on my liver that sent a shiver through me. Before seeing that CT scan I could only imagine the cancer as this vague thing, a cartoon-like mass on my liver. Now that I've seen the darkened spots of disease on Beatrice's surface, I am sobered. There it is. The cancer.

My doctor and I went on to talk about next steps, more chemo sessions; an ultrasound  of my breast and liver to spot check the tumors; meeting with breast surgeon with thought that sometime soon the liver will be clear of cancer (that's a positive thought); and confirming status of cancer with another bone and CT scan in late June.  In the midst of this conversation, she casually spoke of the spot that had lit up on my femur, confirming that indeed this meant that the cancer had spread to the bone but apparently was responding to the chemotherapy. Before this I had the held on to the illusion that maybe the cancer had not actually spread to the bone, but that the spot on the scan was just some sort of fluke.  So much for illusions.  I was fully in reality now.

Seeing the actual cancer, talking about its spread to my bone, reminded me that even if I respond wonderfully, this cancer could kill me sooner rather than later.  It reminded me that I may have lots and lots more chemo sessions in my future. It reminded me that my life is different now. Dating is not really an option (who would want to date Stage IV cancer gal?), adopting a child is iffy at best, even planning improvements to my house or buying a new car could be a day by day affair.  I'm not saying that this day by day imminent death is my reality at this very moment--I still live in the hope that the chemo will knock back the cancer and the Herceptin will keep the cancer at bay.  But cancer is capricious.  It learns how to respond to the meds. It changes structure. It could come gallumphing back, just like it did to a friend who has breast cancer metastasized to the liver who has discovered that the cancer is now in her brain. Those kind of thoughts are depressing.

Finally, seeing that CT scan has driven home the thought that cancer is a permanent part of my life. I will be dealing with one form of treatment or another of this cancer for the rest of my life.  I don't have the luxury of dreaming of a life after chemo and surgery where I can just move on, seeing the last year as a distant nightmare.  As I told a friend  last night, the white trash have gotten out of the trailer park of my breast and they're roaming. The goal now is to make sure they don't roam too far and don't bust out too many more light bulbs. 

So there you go. I am stuck with my new white trash friends. I didn't invite them, I hate it when they tie the hound dog up outside, and I certainly don't want them bringing moonshine onto the premises.  The question is how do I make peace with these trailer park personalities.  And how do I stop myself from busting out my own emotional light bulbs in the process?

Right now, I don't know how to do this. I say prayers. I ask my dearly departed mother and sister for comfort. I try to block the thoughts. Sometimes I do okay with these efforts. Sometimes I don't. I do know that the continuing exhaustion of chemotherapy makes comfort harder--it's a bit like having a leg trapped under a log for a never-ending period of time and trying to stay positive in the thought that someone, some where will be here soon to free the leg.  At this point, I just want someone to free my leg, give me a break, and let me rest from the treatment, scan, news treadmill.  Maybe I'll throw it out to you all. Any ideas on how to escape this world of cancer, if even for a moment?  Go ahead. Throw an idea my way. I can take it.  Maybe one of you all can put the trailer park gang up for the weekend?  Nothing permanent. Only the weekend. Just saying.  It sure would be nice to have a break.  Any other ideas?