Half a year

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.

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8 thoughts on “Half a year

  1. It sounds like you are doing well. You are busier than you think. It sounds like you are enjoying visiting with friends and what about that water color class! That’s awesome. We Americans are duped in to believing that we must be busy 24/7… running around like crazy…well, Hello! All that stress and craziness is bound to make anyone sick. I would enjoy seeing what you are painting. Maybe you will share with us? Remember none of us get out of this alive… the key is to enjoy the precious time we have. xo

  2. We’ve hit our six month mark as well. Life feels surprisingly normal – more normal than I would have thought possible five months ago. Every three weeks is the three hour trek for an infusion, usually followed by a couple doctor visits here, but otherwise we’re chugging along just living life.

    Late next month we find out if our experimental drug has been doing him any good or not, and I expect some lather while we wait for that result. Other than that, and occasionally tripping over a crack in my psyche (likewise for him), we’re getting by.

  3. Feeling the same way sometimes. I too have taken up watercolor. I do everything I can do to make the best decisions for me. I feel I am bit more sassy. Sassy is good. I have my moments, always at night. I will journal my feelings and by the end of writing I have become a warrior queen. Many wishes and prayers to you. Stay strong.

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