Are You Kidding Me?

What a pleasant surprise, second post for the month and here it is raining again.  If there is potential for a trend, perhaps I could stay up until midnight every day and write one line or paragraph in the hopes of overnight rain which is much needed while keeping the days hot and sunny! The other day a woman said how much she wished for fall to which I pursed my lips and said 'Sshhh, it's coming'.

It's been an interesting couple of weeks to say the least.  Or, as many people say these days "Are your kidding me?"  What I didn't tell you last time was that I had a regularly scheduled mammogram on Thursday, August 4th, the day after my final chemo.  I got the good news about the colon screening the day before so I was positive and poised to receive another 'all clear'.   On the Tuesday following, I received a call from Hotel Dieu that 'something' showed up on the mammogram and they wanted me back for a second one, along with an ultrasound.  With my imagination in rapid overdrive, I was mentally turning the light at the end of the tunnel into a high speed freight train aiming straight in my direction.  This morning we saw my family doctor who was able to give a more accurate picture.  The freight train was actually a flashlight poking along to see if there might be something ahead and the mammogram simply reflected a cyst that was 'probably benign' and they would simply follow it with a mammogram in six months. And the cyst is 19mm!! Imagine that after dealing with a mass in my liver that was 20cm by about 15 cm.

Between the followup mammogram, the suggested bone scan, and other physical adjustments it's little wonder I'm so much more stiff and sore in my joints.  I've been doing mental and emotional gymnastics that would surely garner a gold medal had there been such an Olympic sport.  Not that 17 chemo treatments in 5 months would leave any residual and cumulative physical side effects!  Not that there would be any physical release after months of having my body gearing up for a toxic assault on a weekly basis.  Not that my body might need extra sleep to physically heal from the poison that is no longer a regular invader.  After all, as per usual, I've been blessed to have skipped through each cycle without the typical dragged out, can't lift the head off the pillow feeling that many people suffer through.

You might be thinking 'well what's next'?  That was the same question my family physician asked this morning.  We reviewed what we know.  There are follow up appointments tentatively scheduled for September - one with the symptom management team, one with my family doc which will include some routine blood results that have not been done for quite some time i.e. blood sugar, cholesterol etc., and one with the oncology team toward the end of September.  A follow up mammogram in six months initiated by family doc's office.  Other than that, we go on living every day just like everyone else.  It's starting to hit home, how, we really need to live as though each day is our last.  Sure, I have a more likely chance of heading off to meet my Maker sooner than others but I've already outlived several people who had no idea they'd be off to that all important meeting before me.

In a previous post I shared part of a story from a blog follower and email friend.  In response to my last message I received feedback that, as usual, I found thought provoking, tagged with a dry sense of humour and wit.  I hope you enjoy as much as I did:

"Not to be maudlin or anything but your comments regarding passing on to the other side caught my attention as I have also tried to put my life in perspective, and in order, in anticipation of the big moment. Considering that my wife, parents, siblings, best friends and family pets have all passed on (all wonderful souls) my faith allows me to not fear the best before date, but in fact believe that it will be a glorious event (notwithstanding some penalty box time, hopefully short, that I have no doubt accrued) "

The last couple of weeks have allowed me to get used to the reality that one day there won't be any more that can be done.  Accepting this reality is helping me make some small progress in accepting God’s will for my life while remaining hopeful for whatever relief and respite He may be prepared to offer.  After all, if I had the choice, would I want to know all of what's ahead in my life?  No, I prefer not to worry about what’s around the next bend,  and feel it's better that we don’t know.  I'm fairly convinced we couldn't handle knowing and would be totally overwhelmed.  Maybe that's why life is broken up into 24 hour periods.  Sort of what the Bible says about not worrying.  Focus on today as tomorrow has enough trouble of its own.

It's during these times of testing that we have to take a good hard look at what support systems we have, remind ourselves of the many people who may have reached out to us and offered assistance and the anchors in our lives that keep us from being tossed aimlessly out to sea during the storms of life. Needless to say, I believe my faith is the best anchor I could ask for and often wonder how others cope.  I talk about my faith from my own perspective and respect others may have their own faith based on a different higher power.  Whatever works for the individual is what's important.  

Recently a friend reminded me of the saying ‘Let Go and Let God’ which of course we’ve all heard numerous times before.  A mental image came to mind this last time though, of a white flag. What a great way to 'surrender' our lives to God and allow His plan to unfold as it will.  Just wave the white flag.

As I close this message, I'd like to share my newest response to people asking how I am, which is  “Praying and Playing Every Day”.   After all, if we were to moan and groan every day that one day we're going to die, what kind of life would we have? On that note, let each of us take the days ahead as the best days of our lives.  Let us stay open to what we're being called to do, no matter how small, we might be surprised at the ripple effect these actions can have.

Take care and God Bless,

Hugs

Liz

dobbsjones@gmail.com

'Prayers wrapped in faith and sent with love are the greatest gifts we can receive'.

Another Medical Milestone and 'Popping Tabs'

Another medical milestone was achieved on August 3rd, the 4th anniversary of diagnosis with final chemo treatment number 17 being administered within the context of 'same old, same old' weather - sunny and hot.  As I begin to write today, of course, we are receiving a rare of late gift from Mother Nature, waking up to gentle rain falling straight down, creating what is truly a lazy, hazy day of summer.

Briefly back to August 3rd, a letter arrived from the Colon Screening folks to say all was clear with the recent testing so no worry of colon cancer.  A little later as I sat on the couch doing my daily Bible reading, a rather loud calamity was squawking outside the window.  Then, however briefly, a trademark Bluejay landed on the privacy fence of the upper deck.  Almost as if my Dad was saying there was nothing to worry about.  Bluejays have long ago come to be a sign for me that my Dad is around, providing reassurance and hope.

During my last treatment, a frequent visitor appeared - Christine - to whom I mentioned this was also the 4th anniversary of diagnosis.  She looked up and immediately replied, "Well you've come full circle so there's no coming back."  Isn't it nice to be surrounded by such positive people?!

While my official, self appointed 'partner in crime', aka caregiver and driver to all appointments and treatments, Tess, a retired nurse, was on a family vacation to Scotland, we rang the bell signalling 'treatment complete' for her and sent along a video.  Another friend, Carol Ann came by to drive me home on this memorable day.

In consultation with my oncologist, we decided not to schedule a cat scan for the foreseeable future.  Since no action would be taken, why expose the body to more radiation and potentially uncover information we would rather not have?  Another appointment with the Symptom Management Team included a suggestion to have a bone scan done to determine is any of the aches and pains are related to bone rather than muscle.  Mustering up all my courage I declined having one done given that, again, no action would be taken anyway, at least not at this time, and more importantly my admission that it was also out of fear.  To be totally truthful, it's a time when I just need a break from all of it.

Next steps are to include a follow up appointment with the oncology team toward the end of September as well as a get together with the Symptom Management Team and my family doc closer to mid-month.  The summary of all this is, when at this stage of the adventure, symptoms pretty much drive the process.  Treatment is to provide an increase in quality of life, minimize symptoms and enjoy each day as much as possible while taking in stride the side effects and resting as the body dictates.  

In the midst of the uncertainty, despite the relatively positive outcome of treatment, living every day while chasing the negative thoughts out like a persistent mosquito around your ears, the last couple of weeks have been enjoyably busy.  We went for a motorcycle ride on Holiday Monday along the Thousand Islands Parkway on route to drop in on friends in Brockville who fortunately were home leaving us laughing and carrying on despite life's daily challenges. Taking a granddaughter to the pool at the Y and wondering later why my back muscles were stiff from catching a little one who delightfully jumped off the edge with fearless courage.   Dinner with good old friends included lots more laughs and stories of days gone by, colouring with another friend, a mentoring session at the lakefront with a former colleague and a granddaughter's birthday party.  It also included a ball tournament for a five year old, planning for Mike's upcoming retirement, dinner with more good old friends and even fitting in watching some of the Olympics.   A daily effort has been made to remain positive and 'positively in the moment' using whatever technique might work to keep my trust in God's Will front and centre.  

Oh, I have another great story from my last chemo treatment!  It happens to fit in right now given we are in the midst of the Summer Olympics, you'll see.  Early on, we noticed a plastic cup taped to the wall over the pop/juice can recycle bin in the chemo unit containing tabs from cans.  A few questions in an attempt to source out the purpose and person remained a mystery until August 3rd.  In the meantime, we had been collecting can tabs for a long time but couldn't find the contact person to whom we had previously given them.  We've heard they are collected and taken somewhere either to buy wheelchairs or some other such urban legend.  We gathered together all we had, much more than the plastic cup would hold and sat them where they would be spotted right away.  At a friend's BBQ, a new friend and I took a large plastic bag holding empty beer cans and happily sat de-tabbing the cans for our new, obscure purpose.  A visit to Mike's brother Pat and his wife Debbie included a conversation about said tabs.  Well, didn't they just receive three ziploc bags full from their kids.  I was almost as delirious as a child waking up Christmas morning.  They were ours for the taking and delivery to the chemo unit!  Yay!  While we made an attempt to remain anonymous about the tabs, somehow it came out to my attending nurse that we had a large supply of tabs to donate.  She immediately asked if we'd previously brought in a large number and by this point it was hard to deny.  

As it turns out, her son started collecting tabs when he was about 7 years old.  By the time he got to grade 8, the school had an election for Prime Minister of the Day, and her son ran, his only platform to challenge the entire school to collect tabs for a year.  The demonstration of his personal commitment to the cause was to dump out a Rubber Maid garbage can to entice his fellow students to get on board.  He got elected, and by the following year, the school had saved another two Rubber Maid garbage cans full!  They contacted a local former trampolinist, Brett Babcock, who broke his neck during a practice and is now confined to a wheelchair (hence the link to the Olympics).  And guess what?  The tabs really are saved and collected and donated to exchange for cash and used to purchase, among other things, wheelchairs for kids.  If you were to google Brett Babcock you can find a number of hits that help outline his project and involvement and I'm sure you'll find it inspirational. Despite his injury and permanent physical limitations, he remains positive and looks for ways to use his current situation for good to others.

You will also find lots of naysayers poo-pooing the idea and that there are lots of other fundraisers out there where you can bring in much more money.  I pondered this for a minute or two and then came to the conclusion that it's as much about the 'game' of collecting the tabs, which quickly becomes a good habit that is fortunately difficult to break.  All one has to do is follow the rage of Pokemon Go to see that millions of people will do something just for fun.  Another point is that a basic activity like saving can tabs can plant the seeds of philanthropy and caring in the very young.  I also know that Habitat for Humanity collects pop cans and uses them for their own purposes which is great.  We will continue to save our tabs and encourage others to have fun in the process as well.  We'd be happy to have you forward them to us if and as you'd please.  As Mother Teresa was known to say “Not all of us can do great things. But we can do small things with great love.” 

During these past couple of weeks I have been having many lengthy conversations with God about my future.  While I'm desperately trying to accept and trust in His Will for my life, more often I find myself negotiating with Him for time and wellness that may or may not be in order.  So far, a couple things have worked to help maintain a semblance of sanity which include submerging myself in fun daily activity, with good, long rests in between and filling my mind with psalm refrains to drown out the relentless agitation of my imagination.  Daily bible readings have reinforced the belief that we are each given a certain number of days so we might better make the most of each and every one rather than sliding down into the depths of despair of what might happen.  I also ponder what it might feel like, to get to the other side, only to find I've been silly in my pining and supremely surprised at what I find when I get there.  There really is only one way to find out and so I will make every effort to take a day or hour or minute at a time, continually refocus and recalibrate to make life as worthwhile as possible and not rush the inevitable.

For now, I say so long and head for one of those decadent couch rests, perhaps reading, perhaps snoozing and for sure saying thanks for today.  Take care and enjoy the next couple of weeks of summer.

Hugs,

Liz

dobbsjones@gmail.com

"Prayers wrapped in faith and sent with love are the greatest gifts we can receive".