Two Weeks Ago

Monday. I had an appointment with the GI doctor and a blood test.

Tuesday. I had my PET scan in the morning followed by my EGD. I slept most of the afternoon. Diann, Matt & Merrily were there.

Wednesday. We (Diann, Merilee, and I) waited for Dr. Ross to show up. The news sucked. Sad. Apparently cancer is living on my esophagus again. Also, they were not sure if it resides in the tumor on my adrenal gland, but they are pretty suspicious.

So. I was offered a new round of chemotherapy once every 3 weeks for the next 12-18 weeks. It is not supposed to be as rough on me as the last round, and I will supposedly be able to live symptom-free. My first round is Friday at 3 PM. I will get Carboplatin for an hour followed by 5 minutes of Alimta. After this round, they will assess me for further radiation therapy. Then after that assess me further for more chemo, etc.

I asked Dr. Ross if she would let me know when Hospice should be called in, and she assured me she would. I don't want to be a further burden on people, and I don't want to be tortured to death.

But for now I will live with gratitude and use each day I am given to find a way to help at least one other person.

I can't explain to you the roller coaster of feelings that you go through with cancer. The day of explanation is absolute horror. Honestly, I heard the words "the tumor on your esophagus is cancer, and we think the tumor on your adrenal gland is becoming cancerous," and I heard nothing more. I watched the doctor's mouth move and heard nothing else. I looked down and Diann was taking notes (TG).

Finally, we pulled out the questions we had to ask, and I was able to pull myself together enough to listen to the answers. Diann asked most of them, but I asked the Hospice question. I am so scared of reliving the pain I went through, and I am so afraid of being tortured to death by the treatments. I cried. Hard.

The doctor said that she would let me know before I had to go through any of that so that I could make up my mind freely. That made me feel better and scared the crap out of me. Anyway we (all 3 of us) cried again.

But it looks like she has a whole arsenal of treatments to try against lung cancer and none of them are as arduous or as painful as what I went through in the beginning. So okay. Let's try this. One day at a time.

I had my first cancer nightmare that night. Let's hope I don't have another. The next day we were still in shock and weepy. It was hard to focus on things to be grateful for. We had lunch at Macy's and I ate a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. We visited Barnes & Noble. I got hold of Stieg Larsson's books about "The Girl Who . . ." It is nice to be able to read again, so we sat in the living room and read. I went to see my old therapist and talked with her. She helped me troubleshoot a few questions I had, and I came up with a suitable game plan.

This morning I woke up feeling refreshed and okay about what I had to face. I asked Diann if she had shaken the doom and gloom, too, and she agreed that she had. So, we spent the morning doing chores and looking at stores in downtown Flagstaff. I got an opportunity to help someone, which felt great. We ate lunch with Darrell at a bread bakery, and I had (you guessed it) a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. Diann then drove me down to Phoenix to get my first round of the new chemo regimen. We plugged in my iPod into her stereo and sang at the top of our lungs. By the time we got down there, we were fortified with cheer.

Matt met us there and was pretty sad still, but I was up enough to listen to him and cajole him into better spirits. We then went to chemo, and it took 2-1/2 hours. We drove back home, and here I sit in front of my PC. I feel pretty good.

Here's the thing. Lung cancer is the DEADLIEST of all cancers. My chances are slim and none (15%). So I am realistic about this. I am taking this a day at a time. My life is (literally) in God's hands, and I am following along to His will. My prayer is "Thy Will not mine be done." Everything bad that has happened has been countered with something good. So long as I stay out of the way and do the next right thing, I will be fortified with what I need.

Death is not what I fear out of this. I look forward to looking into God's face and seeing Grandma Grissom and others on the other side someday. I am most afraid of the pain and horrible ways cancer takes you out. I have been through hell with this stuff already and can only imagine what else there is down the line. I used to volunteer for Hospice and have seen people die pretty horrendous deaths from cancer.

But TODAY is good. I am NOT in pain. I am healthy. I am happy. I am loved. That is what counts. I know this and am beyond grateful.