Six months ago today I sat in the urologist’s office and listened to her tell me I have kidney cancer that has spread to my lungs. At the time, everything turned upside down, and none of us really had any idea what to expect. I certainly couldn’t place any bets as to whether I’d be here 6 months later. But here I am. And to be sure, there’s still a lot of uncertainty. I haven’t got any sort of clue what to expect – for life span, quality of life, etc. My gut says I’m probably going to go along for a while with a high quality of life Until I don’t. I don’t know how long, but at least I’m measuring it by time periods longer than a day or a week.
This has been one of the most tumultuous 6 month periods of my life. (How could it not be?) But, in some ways, especially since I finished therapy, it’s also been one of the least tumultuous. Almost a little boring. Not my life, but the whole cancer experience. Sometimes I struggle to find things to blog about, because there’s just not much to report. Although I visit the hospital about once a week, it’s generally for something innocuous – support group, blood draw, pharmacy pick up, blood pressure test. Sometimes I even have scans. I also email my oncologist from time to time. Yesterday I asked about upping my dosage of Votrient.
See. I told you. Snoozefest.
Meanwhile, the rest of my life is going well, and feels full. I take a watercolor class on Wednesdays. I have coffee with friends on Tuesdays, and try to do lunch with one or more friends each week. I meet with Jule (chiropractor to the stars) once a week. I hike a couple of times a week. Last night I joked to a friend that I just don’t have time for a job!
I feel relaxed, not stressed. I’m becoming very good a kicking stress to the curb, and am doing my best to avoid personal drama (though it sometimes pops its head in.) And sometimes, I cry a little, but not often or for very long. It reminds me of when I was pregnant with Jake, and every once in a while I’d throw up. Just a little, usually with no warning, and rarely with any other feelings of illness. The tears happened last night on my way to a get together. Feeling fine, driving a long, then Bam! a few tears, and back on my merry way.
But I’ll shed no tears (except in joy) for making it to my 6 month post diagnosis mark. Instead, I’ll add another tattoo to my wrist, and pack my bags for another retreat next week.
Woo! Look at me go.