"Freedom" were the words I whispered when the bandage came off

Today was post op appointment after having the port removed. I FINALLY looked at the spot and slowly peeled off the band aid. It's a small scar. I just smiled at it...and said to myself, "freedom". There was the spot where the chemo made it's way into my body. Argh!! What an insane story...so when I showered and dressed to get ready to see the GI Surgeon, it didn't feel like it was Me doing what I was doing. When does the dream ever stop? So incredibly insane the whole journey....as I am driving my cellphone rings and I see a Santa Cruz number...it is my wild and crazy friend from back in the day...Pete. I haven't heard from him in a decade.  He saw my article in the paper. The great story Ben Fong Torres wrote about my wild radio voice over ride. He was so proud....and all i could think was how wonderful to have a longtime friend call. He never married, a handsome bachelor that works his tail off in carpentry for 6 months and then takes off to travel. He's seen 147 countries. We shared the same thoughts of "doing what you love". Life is just too damn unpredictable to not do what you love. I had a great morning on the microphone and came home to more voice work. It was a good day afterall. I reconnected with another that had seen the article, David, and we shared more. Humans are all so similar and yet we all seem so different when we stay so guarded. When we open up we really have more in common than we realize, its funny...I pray tomorrow is just as good.

it's time to move forward no more whining enough is enough

I get tired of myself whining about it all...I will never get the answer I am looking for as to why I was dignosed with so many cancers. I will never know-hereditary is the most scientific reason and it is true. I carry the gene..but as for my character and why I was dealt the card i don't know. I am stubborn? I am unforgiving? I don't accept cruelty from anyone? That's me and maybe that's it. Who knows why i was given cancer...but I can't dwell on it. It is a daily mantra for me....If I can stay busy voicing my voice overs and just stay out of everyones way-maybe that is the way to skip through my life.I am as dysfunctional as the next and I have spent years in counseling exploring my ways and yet I am the same ol person....so what's the damn point of trying to figure it all out. It's all about acceptance. It is what it is....now go live a new minute, a new second, the hell with cruel people-they won't change, they will go through life being that way and make excuses and step all over people until the day they die and cover it up by saying "I am only human" when does the accountability ever set in? It won't......I cannot do a frickin thing to change them.....I can't blame my cancer as my punishment for not accepting them. It just all is. They are asses for being that way.

When the pain goes away I vow to be over this!

The chemo port is gone....I am sore as hell. It feels like someone slugged me numerous times. I am bruised and I am limited on my right arms' movements because of it. Damn it hurts. I got through the surgery okay. Cried as usual. I wished I could figure out what the tears are all about...I think it's all the fear one endures with cancer. You get to a point where it consumes you and just becomes overwhelming. When they prepped me, i layed there and teared up...I tried my damdest to figure my tears out, but it is fear. I loved the happy drug though...really I did.:)  That's kind of a scary thought to think I enjoyed escaping.On my ride there to avoid getting fearful, I actually was concentrating on the upcoming drug and thought that's the best part of the procedure! In the waiting area all I could think was "another damn surgical procedure" When I was under I could hear the surgeons conversation like an echo-but I just can't remember the subject matter. I do remember wincing 2 different times. Something hurt terribly. When I awoke they gave me the port in a ziplock bag. It was unreal. No wonder why it hurt coming out. The size of a bottle cap with a tube that went into my artery! It was unbelievable looking. When the pain goes away I want to be so done with this episode of my life. It ruined my sons' life, scared the hell out of my family and friends and turned me inside out. When this damn port removal pain goes away, I vow to be over this cancer crap.

The Chemo Port will not be part of Me anymore

The drug that I want to hate and yet the drug that killed the cancer, entered my body through a port. A small device placed under my skin above my chest. It is horribly unsightly as it protrudes itself with it's bump under my skin and it's all a reminder of what I endured. I have never been able to  bring myself to even glance at it quickly in a mirror. i avoid it all costs. It has been a year since I first had it put in and tomorrow I have it removed. I have this overwhelming sadness I am feeling as I write in my blog tonight. The tears are just the tears of a very scared girl and a girl who still cannot believe she experienced cancer. The reminders of the fear I hold so deeply inside me, overwhelm me everytime I get real with it all. I don't understand why. Is it post traumatic stress? I should be happy. I should be grateful-but when I think about the many months of fear that I lived with it makes me cry. I had so many surgical procedures-I guess I am just scared again. I am trying to reach down and find joy right now but these unexplanable tears keep coming. It will be beautiful to not see the reminder anymore. I will look normal there. I won't feel the discomfort of the car seatbelt as it so often created pressure on it. I can change this reaction, I know I have the power to do it...once again I pray all goes well and the surgeon does a perfect job. I will get through this and maybe now after tomorrow I will finally feel done with all of this. My heart goes out to every cancer patient in the world right now who is scared to get their port placed, but my heart also knows the day they get their port removed they will feel overwhelmed with crazy emotions just like me......Cancer just sucks, that's all there is to it! 

The Oncologists Lecture

It's blood work every 3 months. Every 3 months I go back to the infusion center to have blood drawn. I handle it the same way every time. Realize the date is here, scurry out the door running late, obviously procrastinating, and then the dreaded thought rolls through my mind as I am driving there...."ew that dreaded place again, I so hope not to see any cancer patients". It hits me every single time. They drew blood on Thursday. There is always that scary fleeting thought 'I hope all is normal" The results are immediate and all is well. I had to see Dr Wilson for a chat. A funny guy, but he sure doesn't cut me much slack. He carefully went over my records talking about my Lynch Syndrome findings from Stanford Research. So apparantly I have another area to watch out for.....my bladder. Geez, just how many more areas in my body do I have to watch out for!??Lynch syndrome patients risk uerine, colon, stomach and now bladder cancer? What the hell is this?! He handed me a urine specimen cup. So now this is being watched. It all sucks big time. Stupid idiotic cancer.He told me I was extremely lucky-stage 3 colon cancer caught early-but it may have been caught earlier thus sparing me that disgusting chemotherapy if I had DNA testing years ago and went for the colonoscopy sooner. What the hell was I thinking? I'd do anything to turn back time and not have to live with these chemo nueropathy side effects, my daily reminder I had chemo.I just can't go there. I am so good at beating the heck out of myself, and I've been mulling it over ever since Thursdays appointment. Chaulk it up as a life experience is all i can do....what the hell else is there to do? Crap, I am so angry now.

That cancer patient brought out my cancer compassion

My own Mother died of cancer, and so did my father. When my Mother was diagnosed I was only 26. She was only 49. I was so very scared. I didn't ever ask her how she felt. I found myself avoiding her at times. I couldn't bear to admit she had cancer and was dying. That's how I handled her. She died at age 50 and I was 27. I ran and stayed busy for years so not to ever feel the sadness and to not ever question why I ran from her. My father was diagnosed at age 63, I wasn't even 40. During his final months, I came around a bit more. I still was afraid of him as I always had been, but I also felt his fear, which was so different than what I felt with my Mom.. I was beginning to slightly understand what it must feel like to know you are dying. He died 2 weeks shy of my 40th birthday. I didn't carry as much guilt as with what I had with my Mom. But overall I still didn't get it because I had never had it. Then I was diagnosed. Not once but twice with cancer. It was then that I would periodically think..."My gosh I never asked my parents how they felt, how much fear were they carrying" It all became so clear that I didn't know what to ask them.This has all changed because of my diagnosis. Cancer is a cruel monster. But put me in a room with another cancer patient and I am so there. I went for a cup of coffee today  and there in line next to me was a slender woman with her black velour sweat outfit on and her baseball cap covering her bald head. I couldn't believe it. I asked her, "so are you in treatment, or done?" She answered "done, but I am waiting for post CT Scans results in a few days" "What cancer did you have?"...."Brain. In 2 places"....my heartbroken response was "That just sucks, big time"...."I had it twice also, I still have numbness in my feet and hands"...She said "I am always cold, and my short term memory is shot" Oh could I agree with that one. I asked if she had kids, and how are they all handling it. Her name was called for her order, so I clutched her arm and could only wish her the best of luck for the results. My heart ached and the overwhelming sadness and compassion took over me. ....I stepped up to place my order and began to cry. I couldn't even speak my order. I looked at the cashier and apologized. "I am a cancer survivor and just talked with that woman who is fighting for her life now, it's all so unfair, and it all just sucks". The tears wouldn't stop flowing down my cheeks. What was happening to me I thought. I only knew the deep compassion I felt for this total stranger was something I hadn't felt before having cancer myself. It was so damn, damn sad. Will I ever know if she makes it?  I won't. I didn't get her name. I will just know that I understand now. I finally have that cancer compassion. It was my gift from my own cancer. I wished I could take it all away from everybody who is diagnosed.

I played racquetball today

The sport I love. The sport so many times  I competed in, racquetball was affected by my chemo side effects. My feet were painfully numb as I ran about the court. My hand gripped the racquet harder than it's ever gripped it before. But I played 3 games. I did it!While warming up and stretching I felt the tingling sensations up to my knees and my heart sank. It felt as though I was handicapped. I had the fleeting thought of "am I done with racquetball because of damn cancer and it's disgusting chemo side effects?" I had to push through, and I did. I found myself playing a very mental game, each shot was thought out, because I couldn't run after every ball because I was scared to make a sudden turn, afraid my foot would give out. There's this feeling of sadness yet there is also a huge feeling of joy for playing the game. I can only take my journey one day at  a time. I have no other choice. I can't hang up my racquet forever, I just can't.