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So, I have been very introspective these past few days. Truth is, I finally confronted some nagging questions that I had been neglecting to address; specifically, the grade of my tumor/tumour. My logical self (ironic, as this is left brain AND also where The Tumor has set up a home!) confronted my emotional self (right brain and unaffected - physically - by It). My emotional self, in true form, was akin to a little girl chanting "La la la la la la la I can't HEAR you!" or more precisely, "I don't want to hear you."
Now, some of you may be wondering why in God's name did I not know that critical piece of information? Well, I did. In a manner of speaking. Truth is, the original pathology report was delayed and so when I met with Dr. Surgeon after the biopsy, he was a little cagey when asked about specifics. His style is unlike Dr. Ferragamo's, in that Dr. Surgeon is very mild and gentle and speaks in very general, ethereal terms. At the time, there were still some reports pending from Sloan Kettering and in the meantime, the treatment options were exactly the same, regardless of the grade (true, dat). He told me that there were elements in The Growth Thing that were grade 2 and others that were grade 3. When I asked him point blank about life expectancy and all of that sad, awkward shit, he looked panicked - truly - and did not answer the question directly. He said "Gulp! Oh my gosh - a LONG time!" (Note: he didn't actually say 'gulp' but he stammered and flushed crimson; thereby, in essence, constituting a 'gulp'). In retrospect and from reading numerous forums and blogs, I understand that this is an onerous question to answer. Truly. Everyone's story is different, and Hope (yes, proper noun!) and a Positive Attitude (another proper noun!) are crucial factors and gladly, I am guilty of both. YEAH! What I did know was that IT was not a Teddy Kennedy glioblastoma kind of raging, fast-growing "you have 12 months to live" kind of killer son-of-a-b**ch tumor. Thank God for that, because that is an entirely different scenario.
Now, before I delve into further detail, I will tell you that I have also been doing an incredible amount of research and there are over 120 types of brain tumors/tumours, so naturally, there are innumerable variables. I get that. Although advances have been made, the brain remains an elusive challenge. When we met with Dr. Ferragamo, he didn't really get into specifics about grades etc. and quite honestly, by then, I was a little numb. Drew and I had seen so many doctors by then - including Doc Epilepsy - and had to deal with THAT whole drama - i.e. "sorry you have to leave your car parked in your driveway for a few months" and having to sort out how in God's name I was going to get to work and all that shit; how do I adjust my life without being able to drive for a few months, especially living in a place where EVERYONE drives and there is virtually no public transportation. Doc Radiation was the one who told me that I had an astrocytoma and when I looked it up online, I learned that there are two different grades - both 2 and 3 - with different prognoses for both, as would be expected. Then, I started the treatments and I continued to delude myself that I could continue to work through all of this, while sorting out the details of my leave yadda yadda yadda. Suffice to say, now that I have had some time to rest and de-clutter my mind, I finally allowed myself to confront these fears head on, because I know all too well that avoiding this kind of thing is simply not healthy. Avoiding it or pretending it's not there or not talking about it does not make it go away. Only by facing this head on can I learn to deal with it, create my own new reality and gain some measure of peace, both for me and for Drew.
There you have it. Another confession.
So. Yesterday, I met with Doc Radiation, as I meet with her every Monday. And I asked her. Point blank. "Doctor, what is the grade of my tumor?" And she too, looked a little panicked but she did tell me: "You have an anaplastic astrocytoma." From my research, I know that this is a Grade 3 brain tumor. So, my first reaction was to say "F**k." Then, I said "Sorry for swearing." (I need to go to confession for swearing 18 million times). Then, I started crying. I suppose I started crying because somewhere I knew it all along anyway and just needed to release all the pent-up fears, crap, anxiety that I had been bottling up these past few weeks. I had a chat with the social worker after that and she suggested something to me that was quite extraordinary and mind-boggling (and my awesome pal RM suggested the exact same thing tonight when she called me) and that is, that I should make "friends" with The Tumor. Now while that may sound strange, I need to find a way to make peace with The Thing, as the radiation and the chemo will shrink it, but it will continue to live on in some fashion: dormant, dead, sleeping, whatever. And I need to come to grips with that. So this is what I am now pondering. More on that later as I have already droned on long enough. Wanted to end this post on a positive note.
We had a dear friend come for a visit on Saturday and that he came by on a weekend was gift enough. Our friend, the sweet gentle soul that he is, brought this beautiful flower arrangement and a lovely card that brought a tear to my eye. My pal LK took me for brunch last weekend and for retail therapy at Tarjaaaay, because she is a kind, generous soul.
Yesterday, I received three cards in the mail from kind, thoughtful family members who are having masses said in my honour for my quick healing. My "I love the colour of the sky in her world" pal KL sends me a card every week that makes me smile and always brightens my day (and I need to model her latest gift!). My bestest pal CM sends me cards signed by her whole incredible family and is the most amazing support and friend anyone could ask for, while my awesome pal RM calls and texts me regularly and has me giggling hysterically. Mia fantastica, migliore amiga CIF calls and tells me stories that make me gasp for breath because truly they are laugh-out-loud funny and my dear, loyal pal MS and my Uber cool pal LAP are hosting me for a weekend at MS's cottage. My dear cugino calls me regularly just to say hello, a dear aunt reaches out nearly daily with support and love and empathy, my dear brother is always there for me and then there's Drew ....
Why do I tell you this, dear family and friends? Well, this experience has truly reinforced and brought to light what really matters in life, regardless of one's situation. Love. Family. Friends. Kindness. Small sweet gestures. Laughter. The gift of each day. Truly - all that matters. I thank the good Lord above for the incredible, incredible family and friends that we have. Drew and I are so so blessed and we could not get through any of this without you. Thank you all - from the bottom of our hearts - for accompanying us on this journey and we look forward to the day when we can celebrate with each and every one of you and raise a glass to life, love, happiness and conquering adversity.
Tonight's sign off is simple and sweet...
With all our love,
Cancerella, Buderello, and The Two Cats
xoxoxoxo
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