Dying Is Not An Option/Installment -6-
After a lot of starts, stops, impatient phone calls, and small and large errors on everyone’s part, the paperwork of my labs, DVDs of my biopsy, and CAT scans of my lymphatic system arrive at the Mayo Center in Scottsdale and are inputted into the Mayo computers. Yes! I’m also assigned an oncologist/hematologist to see for my first visit, and my very own Mayo number. I’m actually “in” the Mayo system. That’s a big fat YES! I’ve also started to feel like I might have found a potential home for my course of leukemia treatments. Time to relax, and allow life and my dreams to go forward. I’m feeling like I’m returning to the helm of the ship and I’m the captain again.
Our son, Gary, visits for his Dad’s birthday in November, and tells me how wonderful I look upon entering the door to our home. His first words were, “Hey Mom, you look . . . wonderful, amazing.” He’s the type that has to “see” that his Mommy is OK.
Gary loves to BBQ, and after scanning the backyard for potential gifts for his Dad, he and the other kids pooled their resources together and buy Danny and I a new portable grill. He spent a good deal of his time on his brief visit . . . “checking out Mom and Dad” . . . fixing wondrous outdoor meals for us. What an awesome break and treat. He’s such a sweetie pie, our big, handsome Gary-Bear. The three kids also chipped in and bought me some high-seated patio chairs for the backyard that are easy for me to sit down in and get up from, due to my arthritic knees. A real sweet treat as I’m outside a lot waiting for our two dogs to conduct their business . . . of being, dogs.
After Gary’s visit, I realized, I truly am OK, and I do look great. I’m feeling the love. It’s a security thingy that comes from deep within my soul. I’m well on my way to embracing life more fully than I ever did before the diagnosis, and I feel very fortunate to have the time to plan and bring about many of my dreams. This in itself is such a precious gift. Imagine people who die suddenly without any pre-planning, or telling friends and loved ones of your admiration, gratitude, and love and appreciation for them. Imagine not receiving the gift of time to at least try and fulfill most of your dreams and get your house in order. I am truly blessed.
On a personal note, I had pretty much expected I’d be diagnosed with breast cancer at some point in my life, but was somewhat shocked at the leukemia diagnosis. My sister, Kathy, a year younger than I, was diagnosed with breast cancer in 2003. My daughter was diagnosed with breast cancer a year later. Both had to undergo the mental anguish of mastectomies and hysterectomies. They also had to endure all the other yucky stuff accompanying their breast cancers- sore feet, swollen arms and armpits, painful leg cramps, breast and nipple reconstruction, hot flashes, medication adjustments, physical and mental changes, etc. During their recoveries, I bought my share (and then some) of pink trinkets and ribbons, plastering them everywhere in support of breast cancer research.
Danny and I spent quality time with our daughter within a few days following her breast cancer surgery. I observed firsthand the pain and disfigurement accompanying breast cancer. Everything from the plastic tubes sticking out of her upper body, to the pain and hot flashes that overwhelmed her at times, causing her to wail in frustration and pain. Her recovery was an emotional roller coaster that she fought off on a minute-by-minute, hour-by-hour, day-by-day, time line. It was painful to watch, and I could see that the recoveries from both the physical and mental changes were going to be telling upon her mind and soul. Both my very brave sister and daughter are presently, and thankfully, in remission. I had figured the chances of my coming down with breast cancer had hit a probable level of ‘high potential risk’ with their diagnosis. I never entertained the diagnosis of a totally . . . unrelated disease . . . like leukemia.
I did “feel” something was wrong with me for at least three years prior to my diagnosis, and had informed my friends that I felt like I was being eaten alive from the inside out. Strange now, to think back on my words and the oddity of the feelings I’d blurted out about myself, but they were truly prophetic. For at least three years before my diagnosis, I felt like something was taking over the inside of my body, but I couldn’t pinpoint its origin or its cause. Because of the breast cancers within my immediate family, I kept returning to my family physician for mammograms, blood tests, and scans of my breasts every six months. The nodes in my neck concerned me, and I insisted they be scanned for potential cancer. After scheduled sonograms, the radiologist deemed my neck nodes disease free. The sonograms were taken of my neck a full year before I finally insisted that an actual node be removed from my neck and a biopsy be performed. No one’s fault really. It just wasn’t time for my CLL/leukemia diagnosis to surface. My repeated blood test showed normal counts and that threw off any medical warning signs. In retrospect, an earlier diagnosis of leukemia wouldn’t have made any difference anyway. But . . . I do need to insert here, that it’s very important to follow your inner instincts and pay attention to that tiny voice that’s warning you that you have something going wrong within your body. I believe in psychic flashes and the ensuing insights they provide, and have always experienced them in various ways my entire life. Sometimes in profound ways, but I’ve always believed in following those feelings.
Please, follow your feelings about those insightful/flashes you may receive of a potential ‘wrongness’ within your body. It’s the only body you have on this planet, and you need to listen to it. It’s your mind/body relationship, so listen to what it’s trying to tell you! Don’t ever believe that you’ll only fall victim to a cancer type that runs in your family, or allow the doctors to concentrate on one type or location of cancer for you. If I learned anything from my diagnosis, it’s to look beyond the obvious to other potential nagging warnings you’re receiving.
A few years before my daughter and sister were diagnosed, two of my sisters-in-law were also diagnosed with breast cancer. Danny’s oldest sister, Marlene, didn’t make it through her battle. Her breast cancer metastasized and she died within three years of the original diagnosis. She was a wonderful wife, mother, friend, and grandmother. Marlene was also an awesome artist. Her art simply astounded me.
Marlene and Danny’s sister, Sharon, isn’t just my sister-in-law, she’s a close friend and confidant, and she’s presently in remission. My daughter and sister, thankfully, didn’t have to undergo chemotherapy. Both of my sisters-in-law underwent both chemo and radiation therapies. My cancer survivor team is built into the family, and I turn to all of them for support. They truly understand my struggle. Carol, more than our two boys, empathizes and recognizes the battle ahead of me. She’s not into denial about my diagnosis because of her own experience with cancer. “Once you’ve been there, you’re there,” she says. It’s hard to describe the feelings and emotions of cancer patients, but I’m sure every cancer survivor understands the words of “been there, done that” . . . and . . . I understand that!’
More later . . .