I had this post planned out in my head. It was about football. Basically, some specific and in my opinion helpful tips that would in general improve the game. It was a cheery and trying-to-be-funny post. That's not what I'm writing today. Today, it'll just be a sad and depressing rant / up-to-date since I don't feel witty or funny or anything positive right now. The tests came back, and the cancer has spread to the bone marrow and to the skeleton. I was so busy staying positive, that wasn't even an option I had considered, and it's just left me devastated, in complete and utter shock.
I wake up in the morning, and the tumors in my neck hurt (a lot) and the metastases in my skeleton, mainly in my lower back, hurt (a lot). As I wake up, there is no longer that brief moment of pause when I still think everything is normal, and then it hits me that this is now my life. I wake up now, and I know it's bad. It still kicks me in the groin, but it's not the completely unexpected kick it was at first. I can't even get a massage, because apparently, everything that's good for me is also good for the cancer. I'm wondering if smoking or getting stoned (which by all accounts should count as bad for me), might kick the cancer a bit? I'd be willing to chip in, you know, for the general good and all. As it is, I can do a bit of yoga, and Ilir is making me smoothies with icky stuff like wheat grass, spirulina and such in them.
My blood values went up after I had my blood transfusion, from 70 to 95, and then a few days later all the way to 99 (in spite of my body's brilliant idea that the day after the blood transfusion was the best day to have my period), so hopefully I wont need another blood transfusion before I start chemo. (Normal people have an HB of between 130-175, so all of this still counts as severely anemic.)
The plan now is to start chemo next week, then do a series of hopefully ten treatments, and - fingers crossed! - watch all the tumors in my body shrink down or disappear, and then keep me on anti hormonal treatment and keep our fingers crossed that the cancer cells don't decide to start growing again. Which they will at one point, but my plan is also to stay extremely positive that some kind of wonder cure that can kill skeletal metastases will develop, if I can just keep it together that long. The thing is, no matter how much I try to focus on this positive image, my mind keeps returning to the much less happy scenario of well... I'm sure you get the picture.
It hurts so bad that my kids will have to watch me be ill, that they need to watch me be weak and worry about me. So far, I've told them I'm sick and that the illness is called cancer. I've told them that I'm not working right now, and that I'll never be completely well again. I so, so, so much don't want to have to tell them any more than that. We know that the cancer is hormone receptive, which is at least one good thing in the midst of a million bad ones, as it gives a better chance of the chemo working. Still, the fact that it's in my bone marrow and in my skeleton means what it means.
I hate that I have to wait for treatment. I hate that first I had to wait one week for a conference, which turned out to be just a meeting, since they don't see any point in surgery, and now I have to wait another week and a half, during which the cancer is spreading and wreaking havoc in my body. I know that I'll be unwell when the treatment starts, but I'd rather have that than this wait. I need to fight, and right now I'm just holding my breath.
I haven't had the energy to reply to all of the wonderfully kind comments, texts, messages that you've all sent me, but I really, really appreciate them. Thank you all of my sweet colleagues and friends and family members from far away who've taken the time to write! I miss normality, I miss work, I miss my life. It's so hard to comprehend, that a few weeks ago I was a bit concerned about a weirdness in my breast, and annoyed as hell that I was so out of shape and often got sick. It's just a few weeks ago, but it's another life, and I miss it badly.
Now, my best positive thought is starting chemo and then being able to see how the larger tumors are shrinking.