My big scan result is tomorrow. This past week, waiting for my doctor's report, I have been crazy emotional. I've pretty much cried everyday, sometimes for hours. For a non-crier, that's pretty bad. The weight of cancer has definitely gripped me during this last round. I think it's because I haven't shown definitive improvement yet, and I feel like if I don't show improvement by this point then I'm facing another round of even harsher chemo and my life expectancy is much shorter. And the thing is, even the "good" news isn't really "good". Yes, I like to fantasize that the doctor will tell me that every droplet of cancer is gone, but in reality that just doesn't happen. Even if it appears gone, you still have to be tested every 6 months to see if it's flared up again. So even the best news would be, "Things are looking good enough to wait 3 to 6 more months before we put you through this torture again."
I have been shocked and even appalled at how heavy and painful the fear and sadness is. It's ironic that almost one year ago I spoke at my mom's funeral and said something like, "For those of you who have had to face talking to a doctor about a terminal illness, you know how paralyzing that can be." I had no idea then that I was talking to my future self! And I can't believe how very very little I understood of my mom's experience while she was going through it. I mean, this is absolutely awful. I know she told me that, and I tried to understand by relating it to pregnancy - the hardest experience I'd yet been through. But actually wrestling with the end of your life and trying to be ok with that?!? So hard! And she endured under that for 14 years. I now understand my mom in ways I didn't fathom a year ago and she's not even around to relate to.
I have thought, of course, about our eventual reunion in heaven and what we will say. After hugging and rejoicing, very few words will need to be exchanged.
I'll pull back from our hug and look at her and say, "Man! Cancer, huh?"
She'll nod and say, "I know, right?!"
Then we'll both laugh until tears roll down our cheeks.
I can't imagine waiting for that result...waiting waiting waiting. So glad you get to learn more tomorrow and praying that all will go well.
ReplyDeleteYou are in my thoughts and prayers so often Heidi. I cannot imagine what you are going through and only hope for the absolute best for you and your family. Lots of virtual hugs coming your way!!
ReplyDeleteIt makes it hard to feel like you can relate to anyone, since you can't know how they feel without experiencing their experience. I can't fathom your feelings, Heidi, or the stress and the emotional drama you've had. All I know is that I wish I could take it away from you. You are loved so much and I have faith that SOMETHING positive will come out of all of this. I will be anxiously awaiting the results.
ReplyDeleteArgh!. That Tom was posing as me again!
ReplyDeleteMan! Cancer, huh?! It's true - I can't even begin to imagine the rollercoaster of emotions. Even as an "outsider" looking in, I feel so many emotions - I won't even pretend to know what its like to stand in the flames. Prayers are with you. . . . always! We will be anxious to hear the results. I check your blog constantly, hoping for new news. . . good news! I appreciate the honesty of feelings. It is called suffering because it's dang hard, but I hope you find some sense of comfort from the love and support of all those who love and care about you and, even more importantly, from the Comforter himself. I hope you don't mind if I shed a few tears of my own on your behalf. HUGS to you and your family. Love you!!
ReplyDeleteYeah, I'm crying too. My heart....I wish I could just give it to you during this whole mess. I can't compare or imagine what your dealing with, I just can't. But I can tell you I've been through the ups and downs of having diabetes from a very young age. It's the anxiety and unknowing and down times that are the worst. I can honestly say that I have thought, most days of my life, is this the sore that will cause my foot to have to be removed? Does this mean I'm going blind? Will I live to see a grandchild born? (etc, etc.) It's heavy, heavy. My heart is with you in spirit, as my arms are also around you. Love you sweet cousin.
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