Fine.

     Most of the time, I am fine. But lately, it's difficult to attempt to put into words what this life truly is  like in this 2nd battle with the devil. I can't finish any of my blog drafts, and most weeks, I don't even want to write about anything. I run, I work, and I go to MGH cancer appointments. I am barely surviving wholly. I am numb and frankly some days I think that's the only way I can get through a day. It's never without a few tears though. Some days tears from physical pain & fatigue...others out of pure loneliness. 

    Fighting the fight is god damn lonely. It's excruciatingly difficult to wear the brave face each and every day. I don't want to burden anyone so I keep marching on. Acting like everything is fine...like I am fine...like it's all going to be fine. It's easier to be fine. Numb to the reality of this current life of metastatic cancer. Numb to the unknown of what's next on the list in the fight for my life. Numb to the statistics. I've always hated fucking math...I've never hated it more than I do now. 

    And now some days,  I find myself gravitating towards being alone even though feeling lonely is the worst feeling ever in the world. This I know. But I've found more recently, I feel more alone than ever when I am in a crowd surrounded by people seemingly happy & living their life. The world continues to move at full speed...people laughing & making plans...shopping for clothes they'll wear on upcoming dates, vacations and whatever else might come their way. Making future plans for vacations, trips, concerts...and I feel like the elephant in the room. I can't even participate like a normal person. I am numb. I am just trying to make it through today without completely breaking. At least if I'm by myself, I don't have to act like I'm not in pain, I don't have to act like I am fine...I can just be.

  Tonight I head to the store, buy myself a shrimp cocktail for 1, some goat cheese & gluten free crackers and a bottle of the best bold, dark red wine I can afford...I come down to the basement where I wrote my very first cancer blog when I was first diagnosed with stage 3 metastatic cancer 9 1/2 years ago. I allow myself this time to un-numb for just a little bit. I feel all the emotions I've been holding back the past 548 days since the reoccurrence. Ironically, listening to my sad fuck cancer playlist and sitting at my laptop writing this depressing as all hell piece, I feel less alone...even if just for just a moment. I almost feel at peace. 

    I will try to finish some other sad drafts and then head upstairs to watch a movie I probably have seen a million times because I like fluffy, predictable rom-coms. That will ease my mind and I'll numb up from allowing myself to feel anymore. I'll put this cancer life to bed for the night...because I am fine.

    Tomorrow will be a new day. I'll do the same thing I have done just about every single day the past two years. I'll get up, check to make sure my shop is open on the camera app and then, do my usual morning routine to prep me for a run. I'll turn my sad ass playlist on and head out. I'll probably post a "Fuck cancer Friday" picture of me fighting the good fight...and when I get back, I'll carry on. On my list for tomorrow, is some office & marketing work for my shop since I don't have to report to MGH for treatment. In between sending emails & what not, I will manage my next MGH appointments and my upcoming surgery. Someone in my family will probably need something, have a crisis, need a vent or need some $, & I'll take care of that as well. The day will pass quickly, and I'll know when evening is close because the level of physical pain will start to creep in like clock work. 

I am no longer numb once again. But morning will come soon...I'll feel a little bit better and be a little bit refreshed from this endless cycle.

I will start the day as I always do and...

Just like that, I am fine....everything's fine. I am always fine. 

    

Lesson in living with cancer & Champagne

     Open the damn bottle of champagne. Don't wait for that perfect moment...

The past Fall and end of year have been a complete blur. I lost my physical health due to treatment complications and spent much of October and November in the hospital. Though I was the favorite "resident" among the nursing staff and I made the best of being there... I missed a lot of life...like Halloween, HS playoffs, voting day to name a few. And, I missed time. Moments of normalcy that range from the mundane task of running a household while running a business....to sleeping in my own bed in my happy place, my home. But I was sure sick and home was no place for me in my condition.

Once I "broke out", I carried on seemingly "normal." 20 lbs lighter but happy and high as a kite on the steroids that had me feeling 1000% percent better. I started back to the gym to gain back all the strength I had lost. I started heading down to my shop for short periods of time. I was back. 

And then the shit literally hit the fan and the steroid taper caused some terrifying & terrible effects. I won't get into the details here but I can now certainly empathize with brain injuries and anything related cognitively. It was frightening for my family but especially for myself. My team still refers to it as the most unusual reaction & how glad they are I am through it and back to me being me.  

During that whole time of the big fall from the taper of meds....I lost a friend who had been battling the very same cancer I am battling now. When I found out the news, I was not all my self & not in a good place from the taper complications. My whole system emotionally & physically was shook. Coincidentally I ended up back in the hospital again because of the cognitive symptoms & worry that treatment had affected my brain. Luckily after some pretty extensive tests including a spinal tap, they found it was just a part of the process of coming off all those high dose meds. I also was probably experiencing grief, post traumatic stress & shock on top of all my systems being shook & crashing.  

With the New Year came disappointing scan results. And so I started a new course of treatment to try to shrink the tumor that remains. I can't remember the last time I felt normal as I've been in treatment for almost a year now....

My heart and head are still having a hard time grieving my friend. I wish I had spent more time checking on him. I wish I hadn't been so delusional in that I really thought things would be different and we both would be okay eventually. Maybe even laugh about these ridiculous things we had to go through just for a chance at life. A chance at life...

I'm sad. I miss my friend, probably one of the few who truly has lived this shitstorm of treatment. The roller coaster ride that is not cut and dry but changes every appointment. I wish I had reached out a little more. I was so caught up in my own nonsense and while much of it was out of my control, if I could change anything I would have been there more. Even if it meant we just bitched about immunotherapy, hospital food & what we would give to make this all go away.  

And so tonight, I opened the bottle of champagne...it was a birthday gift when I turned 50 but was too sick at the time to have any. I was going to save it when I was proclaimed cancer free and sadly, I waited too long for the perfect time & am no longer cancer free. 

Open the damn bottle even if the timing isn't perfect. Invite your friends over even if the house is a mess and you have no good food. Show up for the things that matter even when you don't feel like it or it's a little inconvenient or there's traffic or whatever excuse. Show up for your family, for your friends...even if it makes you feel a little uncomfortable, sad, inconvenient whatever...just show up. Send the text, call the person...make time for the people who matter. The things that we think make us so busy are usually not as important as we think. 

Being in the hospital during my extended time was more than just getting medically well it became a journey of soul searching & healing and there was a lot of loneliness as well. I know that makes no sense but it changed me. It made me feel lonely & homesick...homesick meaning me not just missing home but missing being healthy and not living with cancer. I don't know how to explain it but you go in one person and come out another and you're never quite the same. For good and for bad...

We only have one life and none of us are getting out of here alive so honor those who lived it well and should still be here with us...it's not fair. My friend was an incredible father & spouse and just an all around gentleman and good guy. 

Don't wait for the perfect time, don't wait until it's too late...don't use the excuses if it's inconvenient or uncomfortable...if it's important,  show up. And bring the champagne....