What comes next? I don’t know.

Yesterday was one I’d like to forget forever. At about 6 AM, I woke up Zsolt with a hard cough. I woke up myself too! The cough, unfortunately, was very, very unhealthy. Like, get to the ER unhealthy. It was followed up by a kind of gurgling in my lungs.

Pretty fucking scary, I have to say. After a day in the ER at the General in Ottawa, with a few tests and a lot of waiting, plus a visit from various doctors, the reality was confirmed – one of my lung lobes had collapsed. The treatment I’m on isn’t working. Hasn’t been working for a while, and so the problems have been growing – most recently blocking one of the airways into a lung area, hence the collapse. And it’s time to jump ship to different options. This a point in the road I really didn’t want to reach. I didn’t want to get here. I don’t know how it will go down.

But I do love my life, and I love my work, and I hope this new treatment option – the scary C word,but considerably more light in dosing, plus possible radiation to the trouble making lung lobe blocker – will have the effect of pushing back the damn progression, because then I can carry on as I’d like. Apparently a range of doctors will be meeting to discuss my situation, and come up with a plan on how best to tackle this. In the meanwhile, I am breathing fine. The lung doc says I’m compensating remarkably well for the loss of the lobe.

Anyhow, it was a scary day. Perhaps even scarier for my husband, who was left alone after I’d passed out from panic at 6 AM and managed to get me the needed help – he laid me out safely and called 911.

My parents and he stayed with me all day in that small, quiet, and thankfully uneventful ER room. They were with me when I received the news of the progression and its ramifications, and they are with me in what needs to be done moving forward. Together I am certain we will make the best of this. I’m lucky for all of this love and support.

One day at a time, one challenge at a time.

But holy shit, life is fragile.

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30 thoughts on “What comes next? I don’t know.

  1. Catherine, Don and I are sending healing, peaceful vibes to you right now. We will keep sending those vibes for your upcoming treatments. Thinking of you and sending love. Kate and Don

  2. I hate that you are going through this. I am very sorry. It sounds very scary and no one should be experiencing this much pain and fear. I hope the new plan brings you the best possible outcome. Glad you’re feeling better. xoxo

  3. I am so sorry this is happening to you, Catherine. It’s always awful when something happens to your lungs. Still, it’s good to hear that you’re coping, and that you’ve got everyone by your side. Let’s hope those treatment options bear better fruit.

  4. Pingback: Weekly Round Up: The Pink Elephant Edition | Journeying Beyond Breast Cancer

  5. How frightening. I’m sorry to hear about the progression. I hope the plan that your doctors come up with allow you the freedom in your life that you are looking for. I’ll be thinking about you and sending positive vibes.

  6. Catherine, thinking of you and your family with love and support tonight. You are a remarkably strong person. Sending love your way. Jen

  7. You are an amazingly positive person, and I hate this vile disease, and that you are having to go through this. Catherine , it was during the turbulent time of my own BC diagnosis , a few years ago, halfway around the world from you that I first stumbled on your blog. I was hooked. I quietly lurked and I read, smiled ,laughed and felt inspired by you, your endless spirit , drive and projects. Somewhere, on the pages of your blog, you cute drawings , I found courage to deal with my own challenges. How much of an impact can a strangers words , on the vast internet , on a cold computer screen have? Well for me it was quite a bit… and today I just felt the need to share this.

    I send you love healing energy , good thoughts and positive vibes . I hope this new treatment plan bring better news in the days to come!

  8. Catherine, I am so angry that this is happening to you. I hate fucking cancer. If I had a magic wand I would surely have waved it already. I’m holding you in my thoughts, and praying for the best possible outcome. You’ve been such a light in the lives of others (like me, for example), and I hope you know how much you are cared for and the support that comes from those who only know you from the net. If only that were enough for a complete healing, you would have it. Many, many hugs, and TG for Zsolt–he’s a good man.

    HUGS,

    Jules

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