Yesterday yet another person told me how well I look with a surprised expression on their face. A week ago someone told me that I looked amazing and more vibrant than they had expected. Over the past four months, since my terminal cancer diagnosis, I've heard on many occasions how well I look. Don't get me wrong, I take it as compliment. It's nice to know that apart from the walking stick or wheelie walker I look just like anyone else. Neither my face nor my demeanor shout "I'm dying" and that's my intention. I work hard to make it so (see what I did there? Star Trek's Captain Picard - one of my favourites).
Eight years ago when I underwent chemotherapy I lost all my hair, eyebrows and eyelashes included. Sure it was nice not to have to shave my legs all through summer but it was tough trying to not look sick. The chemo also gave me a rounded face and blotchy skin ... it was obvious to anyone who looked at me that I was very sick. There was one other thing, a BIG thing, that set me apart from "well" people and that was attitude.
My first cancer diagnosis was stage three hormone positive breast cancer. I was told that although it had been detected early it had already reached my lymph nodes. Many lymph nodes. I was so shocked to hear my diagnosis that I think my brain shut down. I was also terrified and so I followed the advice of my oncology team without question. They hit my cancer hard from every angle - surgery, chemo and radiation and then told me I had an eighty percent chance of the cancer recurring within five years. The shock and the fear were overwhelming and I allowed myself to wallow in self pity. I think it was that more than anything else that contributed to me looking sick.
Fast forward eight years, three years beyond that five year prognosis. I truly believed I was out of danger even though I got nervous every six months at check up time. Each year past the five of my prognosis I became more confident that I had beaten the beast and why shouldn't I have? I was doing everything I knew of to improve my odds and my health. I was eating much better (although I was never a "bad" eater), I was making a conscious effort do more for me and we'd moved across the country for a tree change and a slower, healthier lifestyle. I was growing more and more of our food every year, spending more time outside in nature with our beautiful animals and reconnecting with Pete's older children and the rest of his family.
So when I was told I had metastatic bone disease it was a total shock. I felt it had come out of nowhere. In hindsight there were so many clues over the past two years that were overlooked but that's another story. Five hours after getting the news I was admitted to hospital via the Emergency Department. After a whirlwind of scans and doctors and medications I was released the following week with the understanding that the only treatments available to me would at best prolong my life but not cure my cancer. It was at this point that Pete and I put our despair aside and resolved to fight for my life in any and every way we can, because, no matter how we look at it, two or three more years of life is simply just not enough. What ensued was weeks and months of research into alternate therapies to fight stage 4 breast cancer. We are still researching every day. And when we find something that really speaks to us we do our best to add it to my protocol which I am doing alongside the usual/traditional cancer treatments.
This is the biggest difference between my first cancer journey and this one. Pete dragged me through the first one kicking and screaming. This time we are a team united in our determination to win against massive odds and to celebrate our eightieth and ninetieth birthdays together (that's thirty years from now for those of you who don't know). And so I get out of bed every morning even when I don't know how I will manage it. Some days it might be after 10am but I still get up, shower and get dressed. Some days all I can do is curl up in my favourite chair with a puppy and a good book but that's okay. I don't want to be sick so I try not to be.
A terminal cancer diagnosis is no reason to give up. It's definitely not a reason to let days pass without living and enjoying the life I have. It's about balancing doing with rest, it's about determination and hope. It's about living the life I love everyday in some way.
