October 4, 2010

I guess you could say I hit the big old cancer wall today, face first. And even though I worked all day, I don't think it was because I was tired from that (I promise you Mike Mayton, I took it easy!). Maybe it was a combination of things. Maybe it was because I hadn't really cried and let it all out about how angry I am that cancer has taken hold of my life. Maybe it was because they removed the gi-normously long drain tube that was inserted at least six inches in my body, and it hurt like hell when they pulled it out. (Don't really know if I can I say "hell" on CaringBridge.) And just maybe it was me reading the operative report and the pathology report that Dr. Whitt and his nurse attached to my AFLAC Cancer Policy. Yeah, that could have been it.

And I want each of you to know that the report didn't say anything I didn't already know or that I haven't already shared with you, but to see it written there in black and white, and to know the meaning of way too many words (darn my medico/legal knowedge!). I cried a bit before I left the office, and my precious friend and co-worker, Tracy, cried with me. She asked me what she could do for me, and I told her I honestly don't know what to answer to this question right now when it's asked of me. I felt horrible that I couldn't give her something to do for me, so I handed her the day's mail to take to the post office--that was something, right? She'd already brought me the cutest pink and white breast cancer socks and some lovely pink polish for my toes, and the little gifts were waiting for me on my desk this morning.

All of this culiminated to a point that when I walked in the door at home this evening, I was on the verge of losing it. Our good friend, Judy Cockrill, brought dinner tonight, and she gave me the sweetest hug as she was leaving. Right after that, Barry hugged me, and I just lost it. I cried and I sobbed and I shook until rivers of tears were flowing. Barry just held me, and I told him this was not fair, and I asked why this was happening to me, to us. He didn't really know what to say or do other than just hold me, and he agreed that it is not fair. At least he's on my side with that one. I don't really have a good cry that often but when I do, and for those of you who really know me, my face blotches up and my eyes get red and puffy, and I am a sight for hours. I still look a mess.

The good news about today is that my drain tube got removed. That huge piece of plastic was hurting me in so many ways, and perhaps I should see that as a sign that the remnants of any cancer in my body have been removed. I think I wlll definitely sleep better without it intruding upon my body.

I have another oncology appointment this week to set up the treatment plan, and the doctor will also schedule me for a PET scan soon. I don't think I will rest easy until I know there is no other cancer in my body other than the breast cancer. How can it be that I'm hoping for "just breast cancer", though? I'm loving all of the wonderful, inspirational posts on here, but cancer seems to be a master of fear, and I am riding the ebb and flow of hope and fear today.

I have so many wonderful blessings, and I hesitate to put anything less than positive on this site because of all I have been given. But I don't think you would see me as completely honest if I didn't share the good with the bad. One thing is sure, I already hated cancer even before I had it. Now I have it, and I hate it even more.

I am trusting in God to help lead me through this, but I feel like I should be honest and say my prayer is more like, "Lord, please help my unbelief." I am hoping my prayer warrior friends will pick up the slack here and be strong to help where I am weak. Thank you, Lord, for these people and their extended prayer circles for praying for and lifting up someone whom they may not know. I'm also trusting in the power of prayer.