Tuesday, February 5, 2008

I can't figure me out sometimes!

So, yesterday I broke down crying before I got in the car. I really didn't want to go. I took deep breaths before going through the doors. My attitude was down, I was tired, and then I thought - hey, maybe my blood will stink and I can go home. Angie, at the front desk, saw me, hugged me hard, and said, "You doing great - keep it up - almost done." I love her. I went up to the lab, crossed my fingers, meet with my oncologist, and BAM! my blood is back up. CRAP! Are you kidding me? I can't figure me out. I feel good, my blood is down. I feel like I want to run from the building, and my blood is up. WHATEVER! Anyway, I talked to my oncologist a bit about how hard it was to come today. He said that I have been trooper and that many people hit this stage well before now. He then asked me if I had any questions, which I did, but I forgot it. I said, "Something about my lungs." Suddenly, it happened - he visibly got nervous. Remember this is the guy that is totally dead pan. He quickly started in with, "Shortness of breath? Pain? Yadda Yadda Yadda?" I stopped him and said, "No! Quite the opposite. I feel better than I have felt is over three years!" He immediately relaxed. I thought - yippee - I FINALLY figured out how to rile the guy up!!! hehehehe So, then I told him a little story. It was one I wasn't going to share with him, but I thought I needed to now since I gave him a heart attack. When I was going through infertility, I did a lot of self reflection, yoga, y'know that stuff. I was REALLY bad at it at first, but I got better. In fact, it got to the point, that every time I had a failed procedure, I knew it didn't work from the beginning. But then, when we did the first in-vitro, I knew it worked - from day six. As soon as I had Mason, I called the clinic and said, "When can do the next round (we had three embryos left over from Mason's round), they told me one year. So, I called them at a year and we were off with Nolan. I had a drive to get it completed because deep down I knew something was coming. Good thing, huh? And with Nolan the same, I just knew it worked. Similarly, right before I was diagnosed, I knew something was terribly wrong. I remember kneeling on the floor and looking at Grant saying, "I have never felt so bad in my life and it is not getting better." I remember being winded at the top of the stairs. I knew something was terribly, terribly wrong. And it was. But now things are so different. I wake up in the morning and may feel tired (could be the menopause that that the chemo is throwing me into), but I feel good and I can breathe easily up and down the stairs. I don't have to plan my trip downstairs or upstairs because I am too tired. I am, for all intensive purposes, back. And I believe that the cancer is gone. Obviously, I have no medical test to prove that. Just my feeling. I read in a book somewhere that cancer patients can become so in tune with cancer that they can feel it coming back and call their oncologist to start the tests. So, after my story, I looked at my oncologist and I repeated, "I know that I have no evidence that it is gone, but I believe it is." He smiled and he said, "Then you are probably right." And, with a hug from him, off to treatment I went. Have a great Tuesday - Love, Ang


Anonymous said...

Like Thomas Paine said "these are the times that try men's souls", although he wasn't talking about cancer it still applies.Through your commentaries I see the wonder of a beautiful dawn I see the miracle magic of children growing and I see the frustration of coping with a terrible illness.
When Angie at the front desk hugs you and encourages you know that we stand with her and hug you and encourage you. Take strength from that love that all your friends have for you. Mag and I look forward to seeing you on saturday the 23rd. love pat&mag

Bob said...

Dang - Angie at the front desk never hugs me. Do I need to get a referral from you for this to happen? It would sure make it easier for me to go in for treatment.

Myrna said...

Perhaps, Angie, the title of this blog entry could actually be "I CAN figure me out sometimes!" That would be nearer the truth. It's very fun to hear that you are telling your story to the stoic oncologist. Stories have such power and you certainly have a powerful one. Go Girl!