Have one more chemo to go ,and then the scan and blood test ,and the oncologist ,then the colon surgeon for check.It seems like an endless succession of appointments and anxieties .Checks and balances .
I thought that the last few chemos would be a slow and calm slide into the end result,be it good or bad .Of course the oncologist thinks it will be good ,and I half believe him ,and am planning for after.But there is a small part of me which whispers “but what if “.and an alternative plan forming in my head.
Also as one of the readers of last blogg point out -one is never again free of the thought of death .I guess none of us are .But this is a thought that is reinforced ,as the line between being on this earth for a while longer and being a metaphorical part of the wider universe is within my body, with me each day .
The ” I believe ….in the resurrection of the body and life everlasting “is a companion .As is the peering into eyes a fairly consistent action . If eyes are the mirrors of the soul ,so too do they contain the sparkle of life ,or the dullness,or the anxiety and struggle of those who have had or are going through the attempt to be part of living .I look into the eyes of some of the people who are sitting at oncology waiting for appointments ,into the eyes of neighbours and strangers and friends who pass by, or whom I meet for coffee or email.Frequently their eyes are turned inwards:glazed ,sometimes tired or dulled .But talk to them or get to them on messanger ,and a light flickers .Making an effort ,or engaging ,lighting up .This world is a wonderful place and they are brought back into it through connecting with kindness or love or just a joke
Nevertheless -the Eyes have it :all the worry and pain ,all the regrets and wishes ,all the past and hoped for future, the pleading .As well as the joyfulness,gratifude and belief in life /joy /eternity /God -“whatever “as my kids used to say .We all need a whatever and love
Well I have been procrastinating.Successfully avoiding publicly blogging about my Cancer journey.For nearly 5 months.
Even a title is problematic.There are so many Blogs by “cancer survivors”,and the implied context usually about a battle between chemo and wellness.I read many of them ,and thanks heaps those people who are braver than me-I have found a lot of information ,and some fun ,positivity and inspiration from you.In my usual fashion I have also constructed reservations and questions :
Questions,reservations and explanations
Successive entries describe chemotherapy as a poison entering the body.Most people who have spoken to me about chemo have commented on this poison aspect -that the chemical given is making its destructive way through my body, killing off the” good “as well as the “bad”(deceased) cells .(In my case fluorocracil is the major component of the modified bowel cancer adjuvant,Folfox 6 .Modified to contain leucovorin and oxaliplatin )
Although this is correct, the chemo weakens the body,interfering with good as well as bad cells in its task to eliminate any cancer particles,I don’t find the image very helpful.I need to see that drug as more than an enemy -as the liquid drips down through the tube attached to my shoulder port and then disperses itself throughout my body I need to visualise some brightness Perhaps a light of sorts that is moving through blood and bone to restore and heal .
Then there is a reluctance to describe oneself in any terms denoting illness/possible death /unsightliness /disabilty.The”cancer surviver”term avoids the victim nomenclature ,but also creates an unmitigated image of battle and heroism.as if individual strength and cleverness can outwit this monster.As if we are in charge of our own destinies ,sometimes there is the implication that we have brought the illness on ourselves,if capable of ridding ourselves of the disease then surely we are capable of attracting it ? .There is the Fate one too .God or Fate or an agency that exists outside ourselves has willed our path through life. Equally i don’t like the”touched by …” Would prefer being touched by an Angel or magic.Am very curmudgeonly really .
If I am being truthful, this chemo has also knocked my head around, so that the words are harder to find and my ability to focus for longer periods has diminished.As the chemo has progressed ,nearly 5 months now,I have become tireder physically and mentally. I also ramble more ,talk more ,and presumably write less clearly.More of this later in another blog.
In addition, the constant interruptions with appointments ,exercise classes ,and emergent obsessions take away from writing time.Self belief,meaning, identity have shifted as physical and mental being fluctuates .My focus is on being alive ,staying alive ,getting through each day.
Obsessions ?I think some are related to staying alive and hoping Like gardening (who would have thought -me and gardening? ) At least 3 hours a day planting ,watering,Creating little offerings: words ,flowers and plants in house ,cuttings growing, building small piles of shells and stones,exporing. I am grounding myself in this earth ,this life. I am searching harder than ever for life’s essence,spending time on soul
In addition who will read this ? Who do I write for ,and why ? So many questions ,as there are throughout life.
No -Just starting midway
So now after this long preamble I am starting not at the beginning nor near the end nor really in the middle.Just starting somewhere where I happened to do some jotting down while on one of my chemo visits .
“Today a lot more people.All the seats in reception filled.And all the seats in the consultants waiting room.Are we all waiting for chemo?
My spirits sink on entering the corridor labelled “Cancer Centre”,and halt as a person on the trolley, trolley,oxygen mask strapped to face ,numerous wires strapped to body, nurses running alongside holding various tubes and breathing apparatus ,relative or friend loping alongside, whizzes past .Off to theatre. Spirits plummet.
Into the Cancer Centre waiting room .My chemotherapy appointment is for 9 am.I wait,and for once have to wait for a longish time as the room is full ,every seat occupied .All ages ,young to older like me ,some with frames and hobbling and helped along to the chemo space ahead, some red ,burnt faces or patchy skin, some overweight ,others fit looking with no apparent mark of the cancer .
I can’t help but start to look and label, and think about where I fit and what my own outcome might be longterm.Ironically the old labels are applied -“pretty ‘”young/old”overweight/fit /unfit”,”a pain/boring/interesting”Yet these are people some of whom are like me wondering,hoping,praying,struggling to contend with pretty awful stuff. Skin lesions,nausea,weight gain or loss,no tastebuds -more of that later.The point is that even in this situation I revert to making ordinary, mostly unkind judgements.Perhaps its a way of retaining normality ,and therefore wellness.
Much worse is labelling in terms of the imagined severity of the illness :
This woman has lost her hair-that one too.How does she look ? I find my mind moving to “if /when it happens to me-that is how I want to look’?I focus on a youngish woman with a bright scarf around her head, hooped earrings ,slim build and smiling.We smile at each other and I want to tell her how bright and lovely she looks,.Then realise how far I’m sinking into the cancer,sifting through the appearances attached to an illness ,or at least a health aberration .
Alive and Smiling
Stop! Stop!Take 5 breaths in .Hold,Breathe out.Imagine the golden light enveloping me from top to toe. I turn my head away from the chemo waiting group ,look sharp left and watch the sliding door . I have now been sitting here for nearly an hour.I catch myself inventing a story around each person as they leave consultants office and slide open the glass doors.Wonder what particular cancer each person has ,or what news has been received .Some people emerging from the consulting rooms and walking through the sliding doors into the main reception area look as they did before,just ordinarily OK .Others look in pain ,or miserable.I wonder if their normal state of being is misery or grumpiness?
Then,brightness ,a joyful man, comes through the sliding door into the main reception area.Beaming smile. He shares his good news with all of us:
“Hey I’m going to be alive this time next year”
We all smile .
Offerings ? Its a beautiful world
Living the life on rottnest
knotted and marked hand !
Cheerful ,walking along river path
Glamour before !
chemoing on with portal safely on shoulder
before, during and after chemo for the last 5 months .last one with the portal on shoulder is Chemo no 9 ,and have 3 to go (end of jan 2020)
Jan Ist,2019 New Year .A walk along the beach ,run /walk really .Walk through the long dog beach because I have learnt from bitter experience what happens to an older ,unsteady runner amongst those dogs .Thoughts this day are on the past and on possible futures ,goals ,resolutions ,regrets ,big changes
So its easy to distract oneself with observations of dogs and owners.Dogs here of every shape and behaviour, some big and bulky ,moving side to side on small squat frames ,others small and cute with little legs but moving along quite rapidly .some sleek and quick ,thin bodies whipping between beach goers, fetching balls and finding playmates. Equally appealing are the large gentle dogs who love the water ,their owner and balls,in that order They often have long smooth hair and their only fault is to treat other dogs, and you ,as friends .So you have to be wary of being tripped as they arrive with their balls .Some dogs dont like them either and their owners are as upset as the dogs when there is an incident “Oh ,he just wanted to play ,he’s so friendly “
Other dogs are challenging ,moving slowly and threateningly towards other dogs ,who eye them warily and mover closer to their owners .
But what I notice most are the likenesses .The likenesses that are formed in any community ,which extend to the owners and the dogs .This is a community to be reckoned with :a powerful voice for dog freedom ,dog rights ,dog space .No matter how large the space is ,no matter how inconvenienced mere non dog owners are by the dog poo,being knocked over ,feeling strangers on their own sea front ,the dog owners will not yield a cm .IN fact true dog capitalists ,they want more .
I watch a middle aged bearded man walk towards me holding his dog on a leash .And behold ,his slim dog has the same pointed face ,flaring nostrils ,flinty eyes and a thin mouth surrounded by white facial hair .Owner, like dog ,strides on looking neither to left or right .A couple follow behind him ,formless ,any age ,shirted and short hair .Both their dogs are nondescript, mixed breed ,sort of brown ,unassuming dogs ,The difference is they are not holding hands.But the man coming along opposite is followed by a bull doggy looking dog -it can’t help its face I guess and neither can the man with the wide shoulders ,squat body ,overhanging stomach and squashed in face help the fact that he resembles his pet .But its remarkable .
In case I am being horrible ,young women often bound along with their alsatians or labradors or whippets running alongside ,and they mostly have svelte bodies ,long legs and confident, happy faces .They throw balls for their dogs and jump in the waves .young families mostly have spaniels or small poodles ,and the dogs keep close to the toddlers.
This is family -I hear a woman speak to her dog”be gentle now ” in exactly the same tone I used wth a child who was just about to hit his sibling on the head (or hold it under if we were at the beach ) its a tone half pleading ,half admonishing ,and really hoping that one will not have to take urgent and tiring action : like all go home in the case of the family ,but in the case of the dog, apologise to an irate owner ,or in the worse case scenario give your phone no for the vet bill to follow, and take the dog home .Watched with pity or loathing of course by a few witnesses whose dogs and children are well trained .
You will have fathomed by now that I am not entirely forgetful of the fact that I once was the owner of dogs ,that I loved them both ,and hated them in equal measure .Well they were both brought to the house by my sons and loved and indulged.But I exercised them and paid the vet bills and fines.The first one was named Rafiki,friend in Swahili ,and he was part kelpie ,active ,friendly, cute ,and very badly behaved .He ran away when I took him to he beach ,off a lead of course because I never thought then that dogs need leads ,and I spent hours chasing him up and down sand dunes .He took off across several highways for various visits ,he chased cats ,he jumped up and ate whatever food was left out.His main virtue was that he was short haired so did not shed fur all over the house ,although he was never inside enough to do so any way .He cost this family a fortune in fines as the ranger took him regularly off to the pound
Our second dog was called Saphy( i have written a requiem for her in one one of my bloggs so won’t go into a lot of detail ) and she was anxious ,loving and increasingly bad tempered towards other dogs as she got older .She had masses of long corse hair which she shed everywhere -because we were not firm enough she slept everywhere -bed,carpets ,lounge chairs and the newer the object all the better to lie on .
So I do know about dogs ,and I do sort of like them .But I still find them annoying in large groups ,as I do people,Am I like our family dogs ?Active and cute ,appealing when I was younger .and moody, anxious and solitary as I age .
Sambasue21 