If this is your first visit to my blog, you might want to start with my first entry, "How I got here - the short version".

Sunday, September 16, 2018

Under my skin

Well, it’s 3:00 a.m., the witching hour, and here I sit in my favorite recliner with my iPad in my lap.  I’ve got eight out of 15 external beam radiation treatments under my belt, and my thoughts are racing.  Is the tumor getting smaller?  I’ve got to ask them on Monday if they can tell if the tumor is getting smaller.  Surely it must be smaller.  Why haven’t I asked them before now if the tumor has gotten smaller?

Just like before my original cancer presented, I felt nothing,  No pain, no fatigue.  Just living my life. We walk through our days, largely unaware of the chemical processes underway in our bodies.  Most of them are causing good things to happen, life sustaining things to happen.  We just walk around, doing our thing, while our body chemistry does its thing.

So, what in the world is going on when one little cell turns atypical, and the cell next to it does...and the cell next to it, and so on?  Does some little key, like a needle in a haystack, find it’s perfect lock to turn to start the process?

I had no evidence of disease — that’s what the oncologists call it — for over five years, and then I began firing off those little atypical cells again.  Remission is not really a word they use.  They say no evidence of disease, implying “we can’t see it right now, but it could still be there, waiting to blow up and derail your life again.”

This is what I’m thinking about this morning at 3:00 a.m.  Cancer has literally — and figuratively — gotten under my skin.

5 comments:

  1. As we know from various 'bobos', it's necessary to open up the wound to let the bad bits out before it can heal properly. That's what you're doing ... and doing like a pro! Over half way my love. Keep doing the fractions (some of us are too old for decimals) ...

    Proud of you. And always will be.

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    1. Thanks for the positive vibes, my dear Alsatian friend. They are most needed and appreciated.

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  2. Must have felt your angst. I was up too thinking about you! I so wish I could make it all better. You are at the stage now where your head gets the best of you. Try not to let it. Take deep breaths and trust that the universe wants your body chemistry to work as it was intended. Positive thoughts because that is what you deserve and need, oh, and sleep. Sleep is good medicine. Love you!

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    1. You don’t know what a comfort it is to hear these words from someone who’s been there and done that. Love you too!

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  3. Cancer is a thief! Don’t let the thief in to your home and feed him. Only
    Positive thoughts. “The tumor IS getting smaller.” My dear friend just wrote and amazing book called “Beautiful Cancer”. Check it out if you need positives from someone who has been there. She is amazing. I have not walked your journey, but I watched it steal my Mom from me. It SUX!! I’m thinking all good things on your behalf. You are such a strong lady. You can kick it in the balls!

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