I had a
few conversations yesterday that were very thought-provoking. They made
me think about the concept of fear, and how my view of fearful events,
situations, etc., has changed over the past 4-ish years.
When I first (unknowingly) started on this journey, I was so fearful of the unknown. Facing the colonoscopy was, in my head, the worst thing. What was this test that people are so afraid of, that people talk so badly about? I wasn't afraid of the results - ignorance was bliss, in this case. I was terrified of the test, though. They had to put an IV in, they were going to knock me out, stick a camera up my tush, and try to figure out what was causing the occasional bleeding that I was having. I was reassured that they likely wouldn't find anything, and I trusted them. Therefore, my fears were focused on the unknown of the procedure.
Now, after having several more colonoscopies, surgeries, etc., I look back on the fears I had back then and am sort of ashamed of myself. But, I didn't know any better. What's that saying? You don't know how strong you are until that's the only choice you have....yeah. I get that.
I've had to face and endure so many things that I've learned I have strength that I didn't realize was possible.
Fear is something that can paralyze a person. I've seen that in people, and while I try to understand it, I don't know that I can. I appreciate that the fear of the unknown can make a person wary of the future. I try to understand this viewpoint, and to not scoff at those who live their lives in fear of, well, everything.
That sounds so harsh. I don't mean it to be, but I've seen people who have allowed fear to dictate every choice they've made. I struggle with that. If I lived my life in fear of everything that *might* happen, I'd be dead by now.
I wouldn't have done the chemo. I wouldn't have had the surgeries. I wouldn't have pushed to go to CTCA, to try another approach, to do things that people didn't think were possible.
I've said it before - I try to live my life in a manner that provides my children with lessons that will help them make better decisions later on in their lives. I don't know how long I have on this earth, so I have to make every single moment count. I'm not expecting to go anywhere anytime soon; quite the contrary. I fully hope (expect) to outlive every single one of you. :) However, I have to accept the reality that I'm facing a disease that could kill me. Because of that, and because of my absolute dedication to my children, I feel like every decision I make is a teaching moment for them, and I have to live my life in a way that I would hope (expect) them to live their lives.
Does that make sense? Basically, I want to be a good example to my children. I want them to be the best people they can be, and I hope that I can help them to reach that potential. A lot of it will be up to them and to their choices, but how they see me live will fundamentally effect how they live their lives. That impacts every single decision I make in my life.
Back to fear - I don't want my children to be fearful of much. I mean, there's a certain amount of healthy fear. But, when you fear every decision, every result, every idea....that's no way to live.
I've made a very conscious decision to live my life in a manner that look fear in the face and flips it off. I have chosen to acknowledge my fears, but to live my life anyways. I don't want to leave this world with any regrets, and I feel like fear leads to regrets. (That's a very broad statement, and not meant to be all-inclusive....just a generalization.)
I am terrified of what this cancer might do to me. Rather than sitting on my butt, worrying about how this might turn out, I've chosen to continue to live my life inn spite of the cancer. Yes, I have cancer. Tough. I also have an amazing life, and if I'm going to spend the time to fight for my life, I need to, I MUST, do the things that make living this life worthwhile.
I have had the most amazing things happen to me. In the past 10 months, I've been diagnosed with stage 4 cancer. I've taken chances and been given the most wonderfully fantastic memories. I've traveled in spite of the chemotherapy, and expanded my circle of family and friends in ways I never thought possible. I've met Daughtry and Rodney Atkins (hang on, I'm having a moment....swoon...). I've been given the chance to help other survivors in a multitude of ways. I've been asked to speak to groups and executives, and have (hopefully) had a positive impact on some people.
Fear? Yeah. Fear and I are pretty close. But, in a "keep your friends close, keep your enemies closer" kind of way. I like to acknowledge my fears. It helps to put words to them, to talk about them, to realize what they are. And then.....to stomp them into the ground. :)
I hope that you do something today that allows you to go to sleep tonight, knowing you've stomped a fear into the ground. Do something that you didn't think you'd ever do. I challenged a friend recently to do one thing each week that is outside of their box. They have done that, and I see a difference in them. They seem happier, prouder. And, why not? They've stomped fear. They've challenged it, and proved to themselves that they are stronger than they thought.
That's pretty powerful.
My fear for the day? I have my follow-up appointment with my oncologist. Not only am I meeting my new oncologist (and saying good-bye to my old one, which makes me insanely sad), I'll be learning what the game plan is. I have a feeling that I know what the course of action will be, but I am not an oncologist, and they may propose something I'm not expecting.
Yeah - there's quite a bit of fear associated with that.
But....I need to face it head-on in order to live my life. This amazing, wonderfully fascinating, challenging life.
When I first (unknowingly) started on this journey, I was so fearful of the unknown. Facing the colonoscopy was, in my head, the worst thing. What was this test that people are so afraid of, that people talk so badly about? I wasn't afraid of the results - ignorance was bliss, in this case. I was terrified of the test, though. They had to put an IV in, they were going to knock me out, stick a camera up my tush, and try to figure out what was causing the occasional bleeding that I was having. I was reassured that they likely wouldn't find anything, and I trusted them. Therefore, my fears were focused on the unknown of the procedure.
Now, after having several more colonoscopies, surgeries, etc., I look back on the fears I had back then and am sort of ashamed of myself. But, I didn't know any better. What's that saying? You don't know how strong you are until that's the only choice you have....yeah. I get that.
I've had to face and endure so many things that I've learned I have strength that I didn't realize was possible.
Fear is something that can paralyze a person. I've seen that in people, and while I try to understand it, I don't know that I can. I appreciate that the fear of the unknown can make a person wary of the future. I try to understand this viewpoint, and to not scoff at those who live their lives in fear of, well, everything.
That sounds so harsh. I don't mean it to be, but I've seen people who have allowed fear to dictate every choice they've made. I struggle with that. If I lived my life in fear of everything that *might* happen, I'd be dead by now.
I wouldn't have done the chemo. I wouldn't have had the surgeries. I wouldn't have pushed to go to CTCA, to try another approach, to do things that people didn't think were possible.
I've said it before - I try to live my life in a manner that provides my children with lessons that will help them make better decisions later on in their lives. I don't know how long I have on this earth, so I have to make every single moment count. I'm not expecting to go anywhere anytime soon; quite the contrary. I fully hope (expect) to outlive every single one of you. :) However, I have to accept the reality that I'm facing a disease that could kill me. Because of that, and because of my absolute dedication to my children, I feel like every decision I make is a teaching moment for them, and I have to live my life in a way that I would hope (expect) them to live their lives.
Does that make sense? Basically, I want to be a good example to my children. I want them to be the best people they can be, and I hope that I can help them to reach that potential. A lot of it will be up to them and to their choices, but how they see me live will fundamentally effect how they live their lives. That impacts every single decision I make in my life.
Back to fear - I don't want my children to be fearful of much. I mean, there's a certain amount of healthy fear. But, when you fear every decision, every result, every idea....that's no way to live.
I've made a very conscious decision to live my life in a manner that look fear in the face and flips it off. I have chosen to acknowledge my fears, but to live my life anyways. I don't want to leave this world with any regrets, and I feel like fear leads to regrets. (That's a very broad statement, and not meant to be all-inclusive....just a generalization.)
I am terrified of what this cancer might do to me. Rather than sitting on my butt, worrying about how this might turn out, I've chosen to continue to live my life inn spite of the cancer. Yes, I have cancer. Tough. I also have an amazing life, and if I'm going to spend the time to fight for my life, I need to, I MUST, do the things that make living this life worthwhile.
I have had the most amazing things happen to me. In the past 10 months, I've been diagnosed with stage 4 cancer. I've taken chances and been given the most wonderfully fantastic memories. I've traveled in spite of the chemotherapy, and expanded my circle of family and friends in ways I never thought possible. I've met Daughtry and Rodney Atkins (hang on, I'm having a moment....swoon...). I've been given the chance to help other survivors in a multitude of ways. I've been asked to speak to groups and executives, and have (hopefully) had a positive impact on some people.
Fear? Yeah. Fear and I are pretty close. But, in a "keep your friends close, keep your enemies closer" kind of way. I like to acknowledge my fears. It helps to put words to them, to talk about them, to realize what they are. And then.....to stomp them into the ground. :)
I hope that you do something today that allows you to go to sleep tonight, knowing you've stomped a fear into the ground. Do something that you didn't think you'd ever do. I challenged a friend recently to do one thing each week that is outside of their box. They have done that, and I see a difference in them. They seem happier, prouder. And, why not? They've stomped fear. They've challenged it, and proved to themselves that they are stronger than they thought.
That's pretty powerful.
My fear for the day? I have my follow-up appointment with my oncologist. Not only am I meeting my new oncologist (and saying good-bye to my old one, which makes me insanely sad), I'll be learning what the game plan is. I have a feeling that I know what the course of action will be, but I am not an oncologist, and they may propose something I'm not expecting.
Yeah - there's quite a bit of fear associated with that.
But....I need to face it head-on in order to live my life. This amazing, wonderfully fascinating, challenging life.
Comments:
KA said...
You
are amazing. Thank you for always sharing your true self and for helping put
everything into perspective. Big hugs and love to you!
January
29, 2013 at 11:41 AM
Natteringnic said...
Thank
you, thank you, thank you for sharing your honesty and bravery with us. Your
words are an asset to all of us who read them!
January
29, 2013 at 12:09 PM
I
agree with KA! You are amazing.
January
29, 2013 at 1:50 PM
So
I have been lurking on your blog for the past few weeks...I too am at CTCA in
Goodyear. You are an inspiration and you are helping me to keep everything in
perspective:) It is so hard being this young with the horrible disease and with
small kids. Maybe I will run into you some time and we can chat!
January
29, 2013 at 2:33 PM
Cody
- I'll be there tomorrow. Any chance you're around? :)
February
4, 2013 at 8:41 AM
Your
strength, bravery, and insight often inspire me. I hope it helps to know that
your influence touches all your fortunate readers and their loved ones as well.
February
6, 2013 at 11:43 PM
Later:
Today was
a long day. It started (blissfully) with a much-needed massage care of
Pat, my amazing therapist. It helped so much, and I'm so grateful for her
capabilities, her insight, her intuition. If I could just get her to come
to my house each night before bedtime, I'd be all set and I'd sleep like a
baby. :)
After some down time, we headed back into the outpatient clinic to meet with my new oncologist, Dr. Kundranda (who will be referred to as Dr. K from here on out because I'm lazy...). We had to say goodbye to Dr. Granick (which makes me sad, even as I type this), who has been an amazing asset to my cancer fighting team. He's going into partial retirement, and I wish him an amazing life full of relaxation and good memories.
Anyways, after some initial discussions with the nurses, etc., we got the whole team in the room.
The good news: I'm healing well from the surgery. All seem to be (honestly) surprised with my ability to recover from this surgery, and my energy level. Well, my attempt at my energy level. You know me - I don't sit/relax/rest well at all. And, I was anxious about the appointment, so I'm sure my adrenaline was sky-high, resulting in a hyper-Michelle.
My CEA level is creeping back down (it's at 2.9...which is definitely not where I want it to be), so that's another good piece of news.
As we talked to Dr. K about my back pain, he expressed some concern that this may not be muscular. His concern right now is that it might be pain caused my metastasis of the cancer to the bones.
*sigh*
I am scheduled for a bone scan on February 14th, and we will get the results on February 18th. If this is indeed mets to the bones, there's a likelihood that I'll end up having radiation to the area.
I'd be lying if I said I wasn't nervous or upset. I am. I hate hate hate hate that this may be another recurrence. I am so angry that this cancer keeps trying to come back. I am just heartbroken, because I know that this isn't a good development. If it has indeed spread this far....well, I just know in my heart what that means. I'm not giving up, and I'm not saying that it's the end. But, it's not nearly as good as if they were to say "Hey, you're in remission....congratulations!"
I have to say, I have faith in this new oncologist. He is personable, seems to be a straight shooter, with an innate sense of how to handle to good news as well as the bad. He said that he plans on being very aggressive, but won't run tests or do something that we don't have a valid, legitimate, purpose-filled reason to do. For example, I asked him about the BRCA test that I had blood drawn for a few weeks ago. I've been debating on it, because it's extremely expensive and I wasn't sure (given that the cancer cells were colon, not ovarian) if there was a benefit to it. When I asked him about it today, he said that there is no benefit to doing it (i.e., if it came back positive, it wouldn't change how we proceed today).
He also said that if this is another met, we will continue to be aggressive. If that means that CTCA doesn't have the capability to do what we need to do, he will, in his words, "ship me out" to another place that has what I need. He is going to take a strong approach, but he is also going to only do what's necessary right now, so as to not eliminate all of our options right away. He wants to look at the short-term solution, but he also wants to make sure we're also considering the long-term approach.
I'm absolutely okay with this view.
For the first time in a while, I got emotional in the room. I asked if this means that my cancer has become aggressive, and whether I should be concerned. I liked Dr. K's response. While it was very non-specific, it also acknowledged that this wasn't the best development. He indicated that there's a possibility for looking into clinical trials, when the time comes.
I liked a few more things about him. One of his first questions was around genetics testing - he wanted to make sure that I had had this done, especially because I have kids. LOVE this! He also has experience in dealing with younger colon cancer patients, and acknowledged that he's much more aggressive with us than he would be with, say, and 80-year-old patient. LOVE this, too!
And, he didn't give me an expiration date. He did not give me a time frame, an expectation of how long I have left. He just gave me hope.
I desperately needed that today. I am holding it together fairly well; there isn't much of a choice. I have to keep living my life, and I have too many things that I want to accomplish. I chose to have the bone scan in February because, if this is another met, I can't do anything about it until the middle of February. I would spend the next 3 weeks worrying. I can't do that.
I won't do that.
I have a life to live, and I can't do that if I'm constantly worried about what's going to happen. If I can't do anything about this right now, there's no point in knowing. I know that's avoidance....I call it survival.
For now, I'm going to keep healing. I have some new pain meds that will *hopefully* work. They have me on neurontin (gabapentin), which should help me sleep. I hope.
Today didn't go as I had planned. That's okay. It's another detour, a bump in the road.
I'd give anything for a smooth patch.
But - it's ok. This is my journey. My very long, very productive, very amazing journey.
After some down time, we headed back into the outpatient clinic to meet with my new oncologist, Dr. Kundranda (who will be referred to as Dr. K from here on out because I'm lazy...). We had to say goodbye to Dr. Granick (which makes me sad, even as I type this), who has been an amazing asset to my cancer fighting team. He's going into partial retirement, and I wish him an amazing life full of relaxation and good memories.
Anyways, after some initial discussions with the nurses, etc., we got the whole team in the room.
The good news: I'm healing well from the surgery. All seem to be (honestly) surprised with my ability to recover from this surgery, and my energy level. Well, my attempt at my energy level. You know me - I don't sit/relax/rest well at all. And, I was anxious about the appointment, so I'm sure my adrenaline was sky-high, resulting in a hyper-Michelle.
My CEA level is creeping back down (it's at 2.9...which is definitely not where I want it to be), so that's another good piece of news.
As we talked to Dr. K about my back pain, he expressed some concern that this may not be muscular. His concern right now is that it might be pain caused my metastasis of the cancer to the bones.
*sigh*
I am scheduled for a bone scan on February 14th, and we will get the results on February 18th. If this is indeed mets to the bones, there's a likelihood that I'll end up having radiation to the area.
I'd be lying if I said I wasn't nervous or upset. I am. I hate hate hate hate that this may be another recurrence. I am so angry that this cancer keeps trying to come back. I am just heartbroken, because I know that this isn't a good development. If it has indeed spread this far....well, I just know in my heart what that means. I'm not giving up, and I'm not saying that it's the end. But, it's not nearly as good as if they were to say "Hey, you're in remission....congratulations!"
I have to say, I have faith in this new oncologist. He is personable, seems to be a straight shooter, with an innate sense of how to handle to good news as well as the bad. He said that he plans on being very aggressive, but won't run tests or do something that we don't have a valid, legitimate, purpose-filled reason to do. For example, I asked him about the BRCA test that I had blood drawn for a few weeks ago. I've been debating on it, because it's extremely expensive and I wasn't sure (given that the cancer cells were colon, not ovarian) if there was a benefit to it. When I asked him about it today, he said that there is no benefit to doing it (i.e., if it came back positive, it wouldn't change how we proceed today).
He also said that if this is another met, we will continue to be aggressive. If that means that CTCA doesn't have the capability to do what we need to do, he will, in his words, "ship me out" to another place that has what I need. He is going to take a strong approach, but he is also going to only do what's necessary right now, so as to not eliminate all of our options right away. He wants to look at the short-term solution, but he also wants to make sure we're also considering the long-term approach.
I'm absolutely okay with this view.
For the first time in a while, I got emotional in the room. I asked if this means that my cancer has become aggressive, and whether I should be concerned. I liked Dr. K's response. While it was very non-specific, it also acknowledged that this wasn't the best development. He indicated that there's a possibility for looking into clinical trials, when the time comes.
I liked a few more things about him. One of his first questions was around genetics testing - he wanted to make sure that I had had this done, especially because I have kids. LOVE this! He also has experience in dealing with younger colon cancer patients, and acknowledged that he's much more aggressive with us than he would be with, say, and 80-year-old patient. LOVE this, too!
And, he didn't give me an expiration date. He did not give me a time frame, an expectation of how long I have left. He just gave me hope.
I desperately needed that today. I am holding it together fairly well; there isn't much of a choice. I have to keep living my life, and I have too many things that I want to accomplish. I chose to have the bone scan in February because, if this is another met, I can't do anything about it until the middle of February. I would spend the next 3 weeks worrying. I can't do that.
I won't do that.
I have a life to live, and I can't do that if I'm constantly worried about what's going to happen. If I can't do anything about this right now, there's no point in knowing. I know that's avoidance....I call it survival.
For now, I'm going to keep healing. I have some new pain meds that will *hopefully* work. They have me on neurontin (gabapentin), which should help me sleep. I hope.
Today didn't go as I had planned. That's okay. It's another detour, a bump in the road.
I'd give anything for a smooth patch.
But - it's ok. This is my journey. My very long, very productive, very amazing journey.
Comment:
Unknown said...
Just
started following your blog. I'm 34 and was diagnosed with stage 4 colon cancer
2 years ago. I have another surgery scheduled next week. I understand the ups
& downs of fighting cancer. But you have a fight in you, keep going! I have
a recovery page on Facebook if you are on there. Would like to connect with
you. Kelly caballero recovery page. My ID is skcaballero.
January
29, 2013 at 10:51 PM
I
feel heartbroken at the news but very, very hopeful, too! I remember thinking
one day at a time during my treatment. Love ya, girl. Praying all the time.
January
30, 2013 at 7:12 AM
runningawayintn said...
((((HUGS))))
I have been following your blog for a while and don't say much. Just know that
there are many of us following your battle and cheering you on.
My Mom had stage 4 colon cancer many many years ago. I only wish she had the treatment options that are available today. I am amazed at what CTCA is able to do for you and I am SO glad that they are so supportive of you and your family!!!!
Hang in there sweetie. You are a warrior!!!
My Mom had stage 4 colon cancer many many years ago. I only wish she had the treatment options that are available today. I am amazed at what CTCA is able to do for you and I am SO glad that they are so supportive of you and your family!!!!
Hang in there sweetie. You are a warrior!!!
January
30, 2013 at 9:15 AM
Michelle,
I was informed about you and all you are going through, through Jen Buck. She
asks for prayers for you often :). She is an awesome prayer warrior to have on
your side. Anyway, just wanted you to know that my husband and I have been and
will continue to be praying for you daily! God is incredible and has good plans
for you. So sorry you have to go thru this but keep fighting.
January
30, 2013 at 11:45 AM
