Balance

It seems to me that life has a way of showing you balance. Balance by opposing circumstances. Strangely enough these divergent happenings or existences are the very things that make us understand greater and feel more. They present themselves sometimes subtly, sometimes with raging acquiescence, sometimes with calm surrender. I find that you can give in or fight it, but either way, you must address it. So I've learned the way to understand the circumstances at hand.  I try to understand it. To know why, completely, and I must weigh in upon these things presented to me before I make choices. Then decide on my acceptance or denial. 

I had an appointment with my oncologist's PA. In our short time together she explained to me that I should understand that I will have chemo every 2 weeks for the rest of my life. I could possibly go to chemo pills eventually. Take a break on occasion. But this is it. She told me I've got to find a away to live my life like this. I'm now at a point that they are gong to go to a maintenance program. And when she stopped speaking, as sweet as she was trying to sound, I wanted to scream at her with my entire being. It's not enough. I won't settle for that. I'll fight harder, do more research, find the new drugs, sign up for clinical trials. I'm not giving up, I'm not going to say ok if you say so. I'm going to keep searching because I refuse to believe that this is all you can do to help me. I will build my body back up. I will fight as hard as I can to defy the statistics and whatever odds are against me. Just because this news is condemning me to this way of life doesn't mean I'm settling for it. I've got a lot more life left in me and I'll be damned if I stop fighting now. Screw this news. I won't believe it. I refuse your pity, I refuse your condemnation, I refuse to settle, and I refuse to believe that my life is this ridiculous, insipid imprisonment of being. When I left that appointment, I had tears of frustration and anger flowing from my eyes. But more importantly, I felt the word, "no" throughout all of me. She had awoken an anger I hadn't seen in myself before and curiously, it was just what I needed to get through this part of my cancer journey.

I later spoke to my oncologist's nurse who I explained that I hadn't heard this from her or my doctor. I asked if this was their opinion and if so why hadn't I been told this already. She's explained that this was not their opinion and yes, eventually we would have to move to a maintenance plan, but it was not the end game to be in the infusion center every 2 weeks. That I was making very good progress. I said that I didn't feel she knew enough about my case to treat me and refused to be treated by her again. To which she agreed to implement for me. 

Though I'm finally feeling the exhaustion.  My sense of humor is dwindling. My optimism is endangered. I just want a break. I thought about writing only about the good thoughts. The moments of joy, of enlightenment, of happiness, but that wouldn't be honest.  The truth of it is that it's beginning to wear on me and I don't know how to process it. I can't use exercise to remove my stress, I can't have a drink because it makes me feel bad since my liver is infested with cancer. I lose energy like water through a sieve and the frustration confines me. So what now? I keep going. There is no other choice. There's no way to give in. Some days are just better than others. This too shall pass. So I cling to the days that are coming. The ones that show me the good stuff, the other side. The ones that show me that the tough side of things will not break me. I may have to endure them, but they will never define me.  Because tomorrow is another day.  Another chance to feel good and to try again. And should I fail the next day, or the one after that, there will be a good day coming. I am certain of that. I keep hearing how strong I am from others. I don't feel physically strong at all.  I am merely surviving. I keep trying to understand why it's strong to survive when all I feel is weak. There are moments that all I feel is broken. Like damaged goods. That sometimes the only way to get through is dream. I dream that none of this is real. That I'll somehow wake up and it would all have been just a moment in the back of my mind. But every time I wake up, this is still my life.

Absolutely Fabulous chemo ~ Patsy and Eddie

So here's the deal. I have every right to be sad, mad, scared, etc. And at times I do feel that way. But it won't defeat me.  I'm not going to let it.  I'm going to be the the one to beat the odds. No matter how scary they sound.  My diagnosis, metastatic or stage IV colon cancer has an 11% survival rate for 5 years.  This is based on people who have had it for at least 5 years based on their diagnosis at the time. But over 5 years ago, they didn't have the treatments they have now. From 5 years ago until today, they've discovered new and incredible treatment options. And I'll be damned if someone puts me into a category and tells me this is going to happen. I say no.  I said it before and I'll continue to say it. I will beat the odds. I won't let them pull me into a quagmire of negativity. I won't let it defeat me. I have a lot of fight left in me. Cancer doesn't know who it's messing with because I'll never give up.  And if there comes a time that I am sick beyond repair, I will still be fighting. But that is going to be a long time from now. There's still a lot of me left to live. And love. So don't give up on me yet.  I still love to hear from you. I live for your outpouring of support. If you find yourself looking at me and others enduring  cancer with pity, please stop. That doesn't help anyone.  I love bigger than I ever thought I could. It's bigger than my body, my mind, or my emotion. It is me and all of you. And I feel it.  It is so beautiful. With all of that around me, there no way I can lose. And for those who are close to me I challenge you. Come with me. Come to the infusion center. Come in costume. Talk to the amazing people who fight with me. Give them something as a token of your encouragement. And see the light you can create. And those who are too far to come with me, go somewhere close to you. Yes, you're going to feel ridiculous at first. But the love and laughter you feel will be soul piercing. Help defy the odds. There is a way to coexist with emotion, statistics, facts, and cancer. I don't have to put myself or let anyone else put me in a category. That would mean that it's all already decided for me.  That would be a tragedy. That would mean I've already given up. I will never give up. 

This has always been me. The strong emotion. The faith I have in people. The love for having fun. The beauty I see in the world. The strength I rely upon. My core hasn't changed. But how I express myself has. I'm still the same person, but quieter, louder, softer and harder. I appreciate more and I love bigger, cry harder, feel more deeply. And I am perceived so much stranger than I ever have been. It's bizarre to see how people look at me now. It's with a softness. It's beautiful. I can look at someone and feel love and support. I can see that they are all these same things in different incarnations.  We as people are beautiful and caring. Strong and filled with love and life. And so ready to share it with those that will have it.  I am incredibly fortunate to have those in my life that are so incredible. I'm alive with wonder and humility that I have the honor of gazing upon this in people who unselfishly share this part of themselves with me. There's a deep unspoken connection with these people. You all know who you are. Those of you reading. Those of you who take the time to say hello, to give a hug, to wish me well. You fill my heart every day. I feel the incredible energy you put out there for me. You heal me. You have my unending gratitude and love. 

Part of my way of coping is to try to do things I would do if I wasn't ill, if my energy level allows it. To occasionally live my life as I had known it to be. So I had a night out. I danced. I felt normal. For the first time in months. I can't explain how incredible it felt to just let go of cancer for a few hours. To spend time with friends. To listen to music. To feel really good. To feel truly happy.  To smile without thought. To embrace real life. These moments make me embrace the true knowledge of what I'm really fighting for. They remind me of my carefree existence before the trials. They show me how much love is really out there. And I am so grateful. There is so much magic in this world. So much to be thankful for. The bad days are awful, but the good days. How amazing. They fill me up with all that I need to get through. Even when it's so difficult that I don't know if this is really going to break me in a way that I can't recover from. If the recovery is impossible, there's a way to integrate it all and turn this intro something better. I can transform that energy into something more than it's parent form. The sum of its parts can be intrinsically energizing. It can drive me forward and give me what I need. For even when it feels like death's door isn't so far away, I rejoice in the fact that it's not opening for me. And I demand it's locks stay in place. For I have the power to steer my destiny. And I will continue, on and on. 

"The only thing worse than being blind is having sight but no vision." ~ Helen Keller