better

I recently received an email from my cousin who was responding to a message I sent out to friends and family providing a treatment update.

She very simply said, “I hope you are better now.” I have been thinking about this since I received the e-mail, and I’m not sure I can even respond in a way that makes any sense.

I can no longer say, “oh yes, I am better.” Or, “no, I’m not better.” Or even, “I wish I was better.” It’s much more complicated than that. Being “better” depends on where I look back at various times over the past year. “Better” also has different components to it, the 3 main ones being, “better physically,” “better mentally,” and “better emotionally.” If I am “better” or “not better,” what part of “better” am I talking about? I will say that I am “better” in all 3 components than I was on November 28, my last day of chemo. But, am I “better” than I was in June before chemo started? Am I “better” than I was in May when I had surgery? Am I “better” than I was in March when I was diagnosed? It’s hard to say. Being diagnosed with cancer is a life-changing event for sure, and some of those changes include an intense period of growth that is still in process. All areas of my life are affected, from the emotional to the mental to the physical to the spiritual and to other parts that I can’t even recognize yet. These are things that probably wouldn’t have happened had I not been diagnosed with cancer. So, am I “better” now? Perhaps I can only apply “better” to how I am today as compared to yesterday. If that’s the case, then all I can say is, “I’m about the same.”

Cancer, Christmas and my Mental Health

One thing I've discovered about being in active cancer treatment is that I am so involved in the treatment, and dealing with the side-effects that when other stressful situations occur, my frustration level almost immediately rises to red-hot. This happened over the summer when I had to deal with the plumbing issues and not being able to get a hold of the property manager. I also had a medical bill issue from February when I underwent the biopsy, and the billing department at the pathology lab were basically being idiots and I was biting my tongue trying not to tell them how I felt. Luckily I managed to survive both situations, but it was a lot of work and took up too much of my already low energy.

At present, I'm on a break from the SCCA and my biggest concern regarding my treatment is remembering to take my pills 3 times a day. No more skipping because I'm too tired at night, as there is medicine I'm taking that I can't just skip a day. So, when I was faced with a stressful and challenging situation, I handled it much better than I did the situations over the summer.

My very challenging and heart wrenching situation over the past several weeks has been the health of my 19-year-old cat, Kitten. It's a very difficult line between trying to keep her healthy and overdoing treatments that are going to impact her quality of life.

Over the past week or so, Kitten started getting weaker and weaker and was not very interested in eating or drinking. I think she was really having a hard time adjusting to losing 5 teeth, even though her mouth was completely healed. Finally, on Tuesday the 23rd. I called my vet at home. He is on vacation until January 6, but he gave me his home phone number in case I had concerns about Kitten. So, I called him and we met at his clinic. Kitten was dehydrated enough that she needed an IV. The vet also gave her several steriod shots to stimulate her appetite. I brought her home and gave her some food which she ate right away. I felt that she was going to be able to turn things around and would be stronger by the next day. However, as the day wore on, Kitten got weaker and weaker to the point that could no longer stand up. It's like her legs were boneless and she would just crumple when I tried to stand or sit her up. Since she was unable to use the litter box, I kept a puppy training pad under her. I was up all night making sure the pad was changed as needed and trying to feed her. I was still hopeful that the medicine would kick in and she would get better. But, at 4:00 am she had a seizure and afterwards I knew that she would not survive the day. I called the vet again and we said goodbye and now Miss Kitten is young and free and playing with Simon, who was always her best friend.

Getting on the cancer train

Sometimes when I am at SCCA I can feel people looking at me as though I'm being assessed. Wondering, perhaps, why I am there? After all, I am neither "young" or "old;" I appear healthy and I have my hair (well for today anyway). Maybe they are thinking I am with someone... always waiting for them. But then I get called back. Yes! I really am the patient.

I walk out of the lab with a big bandage on my chest, declaring, "yes! I have a port and I'm getting an infusion!" I realize that having cancer puts me in the cancer club, but sometimes I feel like I'm looking through the window of the train car and not being invited in. Maybe when I show up next week with a scarf on my head, I'll be on that train too.

This whole "cancer thing" seems so surreal sometimes. It's not really my style, to be the center of so much attention. That's something I usually avoid. When I got married, we went to the courthouse. No walking down an aisle with everybody staring at me. No thanks. When I got divorced, we did it through the mail. No court appearances, no talking to a judge. None of that. It took me 8 months to have a reception. Well part of that was the weather, but it's just not my thing. I like being in the background, greasing the wheels, running the operation for others. Making things happen behind the scenes and never having my name come up. But now, now it's the opposite. I'm poked and prodded and the object of extremely focused attention by nurses and doctors and techs. I still somehow feel that if I just stopped everything that no one would notice.. I could slip back into the oblivion of my life. It's tempting to try it.. just to see.

Maybe I don't want to get on the train after all. I'll just sit here with my headphones on and my face in a book, trying to blend into the surroundings.