It’s my Birthday!

Posted in After treatment, Bumpboobs, Life, Love by

Guess what? Today I’m officially 31 – a word to my thirties: I’m here, I’m in you, and I’m not letting go!

make a wishYesterday was something. Zsolt and I had a follow up appointment with Dr Canada at the hospital, so that pretty much consumed my thoughts. We were going to learn about tumour markers and hear what could be seen on the lung x-ray.

So, we get to the hospital and are pretty much immediately taken into a consultation room. The nurse says she’ll pass me a slip after the talk with Dr Canada so I can book my follow up appointment. And I was like, “Follow up appointment?” in my head. Not aloud. Follow up appointments are never quite the words you want to hear in a consultation room, particularly after the life-shaking news I received last time.

Anyhow, she left and Zsolt and I waited. And waited. And waited. Part of me had been calm going in there, but as the waiting continued another part of me started kicking up and wanted to just leave.

“Let’s leave,” I said to Zsolt, pretending to be joking.

He pretended to laugh.

For some reason I decided to dress nicely for this appointment. Yesterday I was in my high-waist blue skirt, stripped blue t-shirt, and blue canvas shoes. Zsolt was in his red t-shirt, blue jeans and white shoes. Together we looked like the American flag, which I guess was appropriate considering it was July 4th.

Anyhow, just as I’m sliding down in my chair onto the consultation room floor with all the nerves, in walks Dr Canada.

He’s smiling, he says hello, he gives me a hug. (After I sit back up.)

And all along in the back of my mind, as we exchange words and he tells me a little bit about the anxiety he realizes I must be feeling, I just want to know about the tumour markers. Finally he lets us know that the markers looked ‘normal’, and the markers specific to my situation looks rather ‘normal’. And that was great to hear.

The X-ray didn’t show the spots, which probably means they are too small. This, he said, was a bit of a disappointment because now I’ll need to be bounced around in my referrals before we can find someone to actually biopsy the little things. Therefore, that means I need to keep waiting.

Fucking torturous.

And then we talked about possibilities and options and treatments and scary stuff. They may be benign spots that resulted from a lung infection some people in this area can get, so there’s that as a bit of hope. The biopsy will really reveal all.

Some scary things were also said yesterday. Things I already knew, but I guess you never want to hear coming out of a doctor’s mouth. Stuff like breast metastatic cancer isn’t curable (garbage!). Stuff like woman do die from this. Stuff like some women live one or two years while others live many more.

Stuff I don’t want to battle, take on, challenge, fight, deal with, or acknowledge. Stuff I’d rather not have to consider.  (And I think it’s total crap that we are slapped in the face with this ‘no cure’ crap! Science – GET ON THIS ALREADY. Oh, yes, you are. Okay – GO FASTER.)

He also said that if it is metastatic I can basically forget about carrying a child. And if it’s estrogen receptive, I should consider removing my ovaries.

However, we have a bit more hope after that appointment, and small in good no matter what. Small is good. Not being cancer is the best. Let’s shoot for the best!!!

On another note, a happier note, last night I attended a bachelorette party. This is my first every bachelorette party – I didn’t even have a bachelorette party when marrying the Zsoltster.

Dress code said black dresses. Hmm. I paired a black skirt with a black tank top, and said, “good enough!” Can you believe I own no little black ‘going to a club’ dress? I guess I can believe it – black isn’t my best shade.

The party was for an old friend I’ve known since almost always. (She was an excitable, imaginative and trouble-making kid, who I got to see grow up into a beautiful, hilarious, and compassionate woman. You would like her very much.) She and I grew up on the same street, and while we weren’t tied at the hip or anything, it’s been good to have her there to talk to when it’s needed, and I’m sure its visa versa. I’m so entirely happy for her to be marrying such a lovely guy, and think there’s a lifetime of laughter and fun ahead for that couple.

Now, I’m not a natural party girl – I’m kinda the anti-party girl, particularly as of late – so I showed up with my bottle off fizzy water and was quiet in my corner as stories were passed around about the bride-to-be, and quizzes were taken, beads won, salads and Mexican food eaten. I met new people and caught up with friends from high school. 🙂

It was one of those nights when I could forget about the hard stuff for just a little while, just long enough to laugh and think of how wonderful the world can be for us. So I’m very glad to have gone, very glad to have been there for that moment, and kinda sorry I wasn’t in the mood to dance on any tables – though that really rarely (if ever?) happens anyhow.

Now here is a small miracle I’d love to see happen:  Dr Canada wants to look at my previous post-original-diagnosis CT scan from three years ago. If he sees spots on that scan, then I’m okay because this is probably just a result of that stupid infection people can get. If he doesn’t, then I need to have a biopsy to see what is going on – and that has a long wait time attached to it, plus scary possible implications. I wasn’t sure whether or not to talk about this, but I’ve decided to do so since your good vibes worked last time, so I’m hoping they work again. Please do send some my way, if that’s okay. And in the meanwhile I’m hoping, praying and writing for good results in all areas.

Next week I drop off that CT scan.

Week after I have a bone scan.

We want spots on the original CT scan, and a clear bone scan. That two things would be good. Good would be GOOD.

And, it’d be an awesome birthday present too.

Random Footprints

Posted in Uncategorized by

I don’t want to be overly sentimental or cosmic or something like that, but at this moment I am most certainly leaning on faith and relearning what that means.

Anyhow, today I was feeling rather crummy, my belly was all ‘blah’ and stuff, so I picked up a random book from my shelf for distraction. Distraction is a rare thing these past few days. I can’t get my mind off all that big scary stuff I don’t want to think about and yet can’t stop considering.

Anyhow, the book was Homar Price, and it’s a very old copy that my Dad passed along to me and I totally adore. So, sitting down, I opened the book thinking I’d glance at a couple pages. And there where I opened it was a bookmark. A book mark that I’d cut and written out years ago on a piece of sketch paper, and at some point shoved into my books while packing between moves and never thought about again. And on that book mark was my very favourite poem.

You probably know it, it’s that footprints poem. So I sat there and read the poem, and in a way, it was just a nice reminder. It held no promises, but I reckon it held some hope and the idea of a lighter load, and right now, I could really use a lighter load.

Anyhow, for that poem to end up in that book and be opened by me at that time . . . it was so beautifully random that I’ll take it for a miracle. And if one miracle can happen, maybe more can too 🙂

Here’s a copy of the poem. It’s the footprints poem.

 

One night a man had a dream. He dreamed
he was walking along the beach with the Lord.
Across the sky flashed scenes from his life.
For each scene he noticed two sets of
footprints in the sand: one belonging
to him, and the other to the Lord.
When the last scene of his life flashed before him,
he looked back at the footprints in the sand.
He noticed that many times along the path of
his life there was only one set of footprints.
He also noticed that it happened at the very
lowest and saddest times in his life.
This really bothered him and he
questioned the Lord about it,
“Lord, you said that once I decided to follow
you, you’d walk with me all the way.
But I have noticed that during the most
troublesome times in my life,
there is only one set of footprints.
I don’t understand why when
I needed you most you would leave me.”
The Lord replied,
“My son, my precious child,
I love you and I would never leave you.
During your times of trial and suffering,
when you see only one set of footprints,
it was then that I carried you.”

Watching the cookie crumble

Posted in Uncategorized by

So it’s time to write this post. The truth is, it’s a post in limbo . . . and I know I should remain the constant optimist and punch back my fears and continue to hope for a miracle, which I am doing, kinda, but I’m also crying about every hour on the hour.

Unfortunately it’s not my style to hold things back. It’s not good for me. Not healthy. Which is why it’s time for this post.

This past week I had the joy of being at a cottage for several days. It’s this amazing place up north a little from Ottawa into Quebec, on a lake called Lac Blue Sea. (I think that’s the name, at least). The cottage we stayed at with my family was amazing. It was clean and mould-free and there were kayaks that my husband and I took out every day, and my mother and I took out together as well. We would  paddle into this big lake and then just sit there, floating only a little above the water in what was a beautiful stillness. Loons dipping into and out of the water, fish flipping through the surface, trees guarding the shore . . . it was a slice of heaven.

Then on Thursday my husband and I jumped into the car and headed back to town for what was meant to be a routine oncology appointment. We were shown into the room, and given a seat – and there was this poster on the wall opposite of two dogs running down the beach. And I said to Zsolt, “Geez, if he gives us bad news all I’m going to associate with this moment is that dog’s butt.”

I’m a damn idiot.

In walked Dr. Canada, and he began talking in second person, say ‘we decided at your last visit that you should get pregnant, and we thought you should get scans first.’  Then he sat down opposite me. He passed out our MRI results (since I always request copies of my results) and said they were fine.

Then he says something like, “now I don’t want you to get very upset, but there’s an abnormality in your CT scan on your lungs.”

Which basically amounts to tiny spots on my right lung, where my breast once sat as it filled up with cancer.

So la, la, la, several minutes later I’m crying and Dr. Canada is writing me an anti-anxiety prescription while my husband, Zsolt, is trying to absorb the conversation. To put it in Dr. Canada’s words: “It’s not a slam dunk,” and there’s a chance it’s not cancer. But also as he said, cancer would be the “highest probability.”

You ever heard of that molecules of emotion book, about reprogramming our RDNA, and therefore changing our situation? Well, thinking of that I want to say this isn’t cancer in my right lung. It’s just scar tissue left over from pneumonia and not caught in an earlier x-ray. That’s what I want it to be. I want to NOT have cancer in my chest. FUCK OFF cancer drama.

But I’ve been crying ever since that meeting. And we’ve been basically devastated. It’s Zsolt’s birthday today. He is the love of my life, and his being born is the greatest gift I could have ever received. I love him, I love him, I love him. So, you can understand, that the concept of leaving him absolutely terrifies me. We decided we need to learn more before we panic further. And also, I should probably stop thinking about death. And I’m avoiding Dr Google best as possible. But there’s something in my lungs, and that something is located awfully close to another something that had to be surgically removed via mastectomy.

This is a weird feeling. I’m not taking that anti-anxiety med, I’d rather cry my way through. And Zsolt, my wonderful Zsolt, he is doing so well. Whether we are emotional, or smiling for each other’s sakes, or smiling for real in a moment of distraction, he is doing so well.

Zsolt: Happy birthday. I love you and that is one thing that will never, ever change. Sorry for the crappiness of today’s celebration, but being together really is the tops, no matter what else is happening.

P.S.

Prayers, crossed fingers, and good thoughts for a glorious miracle are very much welcome. A miracle would be awesome. Also, a cure for cancer would be awesome as well.