Thursday, December 06, 2012

A little bit of this, a little bit of that...

Life has always been a mixed bag. Nowadays, it's more mixed than ever.
Here's what I mean -

I am supremely confident that all is well and all shall be well.
At the same time, I wonder how I would handle bad news at the end of all this.

I feel better and better with each passing day. In some ways, this week is reminding me of how easy and simply my life was pre-kanswer.
At the same time, I dread starting the cycle again on the 17th.

I feel deeper peace and joy tonight than I have since receiving the diagnosis.
At the same time, I'm pinching myself, wondering if I'm denying some deep-seated fear I don't want to admit to.

I am grateful for how strong I feel tonight. 
At the same time, I'm terrified that this strength will not be evident during the week following my next treatment. And what will I do then? 

Kanswer is the worst thing that has ever happened to me.
At the same time, I've learned more about my body, nutrition, supplements, and new ways to eat and live more healthfully than I would have if this had never happened to me.

I'm one of the most independent people I know.
At the same time, I'm learning that there is a beauty and sweetness to depending on the generosity and kindness of others that I've never experienced before.

I'm supposed to rest, to take exquisite care of myself, to be on "sa-battle-cal," as a friend recently reminded me.
At the same time, it is ridiculously difficult to sit on the sidelines, to not have a busy Christmas schedule, to not be grocery shopping, baking cookies, making big pots of soup, cleaning and doing laundry everyday. I feel like a slug, like a bump on a log.
(At the same time, it feels GREAT to relax, to lay in bed, to read, to watch television, to not be cooking and cleaning, and to not feel (too) guilty about it.)

I want this whole kanswer thing to end well. Once these nine months are behind me, I hope and pray to be kanswer free for the rest of my life.
At the same time, I know that there are no guarantees. I know too many people dealing with this disease for the second and third time to ignore the possibility that it could happen again.

I am grateful to be working with one of the best surgeons in Charlotte. I adore my oncologist and am grateful that he is so patient with my questions and complaints. The nurses in the oncologist's office are generous, gentle, funny, and attentive. They explain things better than any other nurses I've ever encountered.
At the same time, I wish I had never met any of these people.

I have some of the most loving, loyal, generous, kind, supportive friends in the world.
At the same time, I'm quite nervous that I will overplay "the kanswer card" and they will get sick of having to check in with me and look after me.

I love telling the stories of all that I'm experiencing and learning through this process - and I'm learning so much. I love sharing that I'm feeling better and getting stronger as this week progresses.
At the same time, I worry that on days when I'm feeling low, I will be letting people down by telling that part of the story as well.

I know that no one will be disappointed with me when things get tough. Kanswer sucks. There is nothing easy about going through the healing therapy. I know that my true tribe will stick close and see me through this entire process.
At the same time, I want to "do this right," "be strong," and "be a good role model."

What I am learning is that in the midst of all this double-think and double-speak,
all truly is well, life is truly a gift to be savored, and there is beauty within and around me all the time.
Everything is exactly what it needs to be right now.
This life story of mine (and yours) is being written every day, every hour, live, unedited.
There is no "right way" to do this. There are no expectations to be met.
There is just this one life I get to live, fully, attentively, breathing deeply.
At the same time, I am deeply, profoundly, unendingly grateful.

My faith has found a resting place. My soul is at peace.
My body is fed, clothed, warm, and downright amazing, especially considering the shocking changes it has been forced to undergo in the past three weeks.
I know that I am loved, cared for, prayed for, thought of, and that many good wishes are being sent my way every day.
At the same time, I am deeply, profoundly, unendingly grateful.


For those of you who aren't on facebook
or haven't seen my new short-haired look in person,
here I am during this past Monday's drug infusion.
I may be completely bowling-ball-bald
by this time next week. 
I'll post a photo of that as well.
I hope I'm still smiling, even then...

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