I think it is safe to tally up the final total of the outpouring of well wishes that came my way when people learned of my diagnosis. All in all, there were nine vases of lovely flowers; one pot of white orchids; one basket of lush green plants; three boxes of chocolates; three small cancer fighting teddy bears; one box of Honeybelle oranges; one handmade quilt pieced together with patches of crocheted and knitted squares made by the ladies where Bill works; one purple crocheted angel with a red button heart made by an organization called "Angels For Hope";  a red basket from one of Bill's co-workers who filled it with a china teacup, tea bags, a notebook and pen, Lindt chocolates and a red teddy bear; and many thoughtful and caring greeting cards. All of these wended their way to me over the period of one month. I was totally honored that so many people were thinking of me and reaching out to give care, support and comfort. I don't know as of yet how many prayer lists I am on but I'm grateful to be on them since I could use all the positive vibes sent my way for a long, long time.
It's official. I have Stage IV cancer and it has metastasized to my spine. There are two one-inch pieces in my spine. Sounds perfectly lovely, eh? That is so like me. Never one to do things halfway, always going for the dramatic or maybe for the shock value. Here's the interesting part. My oncologist says that this is looked at as a chronic disease. Not a terminal disease but a chronic disease. I was blown away by that thought. A chronic disease. Yeh, I can live with that (well, I have to no matter what, ha, ha). Since it's in my spine it can't be operated on. He's says it's not curable but it's controllable. I am estrogen positive so that puts me in the category of responding favorably to the hormone therapy. So, there's no chemo and no radiation, just this tiny pill I have to take for the rest of my life. As rosy a picture he tried to paint for me, I knew the reality of the situation so my next question to him was, "And what if this pill stops working?" I don't think he expected that question. But he said that there are other medicines to try but the bottom line was that I could still live many, many years. Whew, okay. And maybe enough years so that the diabetes or the atrial fibrilation gets me first, ha, ha. Or, who knows, a car accident. My mind is not so numb anymore, thankfully. In the last two months, I have come to acceptance with it all. People are always so surprised that my attitude is the way it is. I guess they think someone with Stage IV cancer sits around and cries and mopes all day long. Well, I did that for two weeks while waiting for the official diagnosis but then I moved on. I still have moments where my brain all of a sudden yells, "WTF?!" at me but then I calm down and realize that I'm still alive and breathing (at least for now) and tomorrow will be another day. This is a picture of the vase of flowers that Amy and Addilyn gave me (yellow vase purchased at Ikea in Toronto many years ago). Don't know if you noticed the cat's ear in both the pictures on this page. The pictures were taken on different days. The ear is courtesy of my Kaboodle who has to take every opportunity to sit on my keyboard tray while I'm trying to do serious work here. Speaking of Ikea, they have opened up a branch in West Chester which is about a twenty minute drive from here. Amy has been there four times in two weeks, first with herself and the kids, second with her husband and the kids, third with Kip and Amy and the kids, and then fourth with me and the kids. I think Addilyn is starting to know that store by heart. You would not believe the crowd! Even on an early morning weekday. Yoiks! But they really do have great and low-priced stuff there. So, I must be recuperating pretty well. I made it to my first swim class yesterday since the operation. It was quite the welcome back reception. There were many hugs and people kept saying over and over how much they were so glad to see me and how much they had missed me. That was a great boost to my ego. Helps one to feel that it's great to be alive. |
