Yup, it's true. My cancer loves me. It's very much like that boy in 5th grade who just won't go away. He follows you every where, he wears that love-sick grin that makes you want to run. But every time you look back, there he is.
So, what do I do about it? The only thing I can do. Ignore it, and hope it will go away. Not very realistic, but a good tool when you are exhausted from chemo, feeling nauseous, and yes, somewhat depressed. Because having cancer is exhausting. It's stubborn, it's relentless, and often times it's incurable. And it puts you in the driver's seat when you don't even have your permit yet. For example, my favorite thing to hear when I'm in the oncologist's office is "we have several options," followed by, "which one would you like to try?" How do I possibly answer that question? I have no expertise in that area, I studied French and English in college. That didn't include "Choosing the Best Chemo 101." And all of a sudden I'm back in 5th grade, sitting at my desk looking dumb because I can't answer the question posed directly at me, and yes, that boy is still looking at me with that sick puppy dog look on his face. And then I'm somewhat horror-stricken when I realize that I'm being asked that question because even my oncologist doesn't have the magic answer. If she did, she wouldn't be asking me. Finally, we blindly choose together, and another fresh round of drugs begins.
During the past 3 years I've participated in weekly infusions, every 21-day infusions, and monthly infusions. Some drugs are repeated, new ones are introduced. Some are successful in beating the beast down, some are slow in taking their time to work, and some just don't work at all.
It's amazing to me that way back in the 60's, the years of the Cold War with Russia, we had the knowledge and capability of launching a rocket from Tucson, AZ, and it would reach Russia in under 25 minutes. But we still can't figure out the mysterious evil that is cancer. We still grovel in the unknown of let's try this drug no, wait, let's do this one. After all the years of fighting this enemy, this still is no victory. There's a plan, there's always a plan, but the end result is still unknown.
So for now, I do what everyone does with this disease. I put my life in someone else's hands, mind you the hands of someone else who really doesn't have the answers, and go with it. (I wouldn't be an oncologist for all the money in the world. Too much risk, not enough reward.) And if you can think of a better way to be a player in this game, you be sure and let me know, okay?
While I'd like to end this on a more upbeat, positive note, I just don't have one today. And I'm okay with that.
