Milli sleeping on the OasisMadi & Milli napping Milli after a bath
Today is treatment 119. We left the farm at 4 am. I only have treatment today so hopefully we will be on the way home by 11 am. I’ve had more good days recently and I appreciate that immensely. Milli is 11 weeks old today. She is very spunky and has an outgoing personality. She is super smart and is learning things quickly, most of them good! She and Madi are best buddies already.
In July I have extra scans and appointments. That means I will have 5 trips to St Louis in 4 weeks. July is also an emotionally painful time for me as the events of July 2019 swirl through my mind. I hope the glorious busyness of a new puppy will help.
I’m in my “meh” scan era – not great but also not horrible. That’s pretty good for almost 7 years with stage 4 cancer. Today was treatment 118 and I will go back in 3 weeks for number 119 while I continue to take oral chemotherapy pills morning and night. I’ll make 4 trips to Barnes in July for some extra scans.
The window washing crew was at Siteman Cancer Center today. I am so thankful I didn’t have to earn a living doing that!
This Tuesday I have a scan, see my oncologist and receive treatment 118. Add 7 hours in the car and it will be a long day. Hello, Scanxiety. The pressure has been building and, with it, my irritability. The state of our country makes me want to scream. I lose patience with people who seem to only complain in my presence. Someone special to me shocked me with a racist comment. I don’t always make it to the bathroom on time.
And yet
This weekend a dear friend brought flats of flowers and potting soil to bring life to my oasis again. We sat and visited over iced tea. I am blessed by her friendship. One of my children came to visit and we took Madi for a walk and laughed over her antics. I am blessed by love and laughter. I had breakfast with my cousins on Saturday. I am blessed by family who are also friends.
Since July 2019, cancer has been in the car with me. Sometimes it is driving and life is chaotic. Sometimes it is staring at me from the passenger seat while I drive, always making its presence known. Sometimes it sits quietly in the back seat, only occasionally tapping me on the shoulder to distract me from driving.
Cancer will never leave the car and it is impossible and unhealthy to ignore it, but I can do things that help move it farther back in the car.
The Missouri Botanical Garden has a large presence at Siteman Cancer Center. They send volunteers to help patients in the chemo pods make flower arrangements or floral cards, as examples. Yesterday I saw this flyer in the waiting area from the Therapeutic Horticulture Team at the Missouri Botanical Garden:
It reads:
The Benefit of Noticing
A small amount of time spent noticing nature can change the course of your day.
Take a moment to observe the plants outside these windows.
As the seasons change, begin to see signs of what is to come.
Notice, are there buds forming on the plants and trees?
Are the leaves young and tender green?
Are there any nests or wildlife that you can see?
Is the wind causing movement or does everything seem still? How does it all make you feel?
Noticing is the process of actively selecting and interpreting relevant information from the broader environment. This practice helps us learn in all areas of life, but nature is a great place to start. Slow down. Use your senses intentionally. What do you see, hear, feel, taste and smell right where you are at in this moment? Be in this moment. That is mindfulness. When my thoughts are too messy to find a starting point in my journaling, I turn to this quick journal exercise. Write down 10 things you see, hear, feel, taste or smell right now. It is amazing how this simple exercise grounds me and clears my mind for deeper thought. Sometimes I do this as a mental exercise when I am away from my journal and spiraling with anxiety. It reminds me to be present in all I do. When I walk Madi I do not take any listening devices. I take my phone for emergencies (like when I faceplant in a road ditch) and to snap occasional photos. Otherwise I focus on noticing things on our walks – vegetation, sounds of birds and squirrels, the smell of cut grass or freshly tilled earth, and Madi’s cute little butt wiggle when she is shoulder-deep in a culvert. I love slow motorcycle rides when Dave and I can tell what is pollenating in a field from the scent as we drive by. In the fall we can smell a backyard wood fire pit from a mile away.
I am blessed with friends who help me notice nature, like Kris, who can make me think moss is utterly beautiful, and like Barb, who takes gorgeous photographs of things I walk by all the time without noticing. I have started snapping photos of things I notice so I can remember them later. I scroll through those photos on my bad days to remind myself of all the blessings around me. How lucky I am!
We left the farm and 4:30 this morning for my 8:30 appointment at Siteman Cancer Center.
I was not ready for it. 😩
Dave and Madi played at Forest Park just down the road from Barnes. It is a gorgeous day in St Louis’s
💤💤💤
The beauty of early appointments is driving toward home by 10:30 am. Madi Moo might sleep the whole drive.
After a day of rest, we come back down here on Thursday to meet with my cardiac oncologist. (Madi will stay home for that trip.) We are eager to find out what the plans are for my damaged heart.
This resonates with me. It begins to describe how I feel, almost 7 years into MBC. I almost feel healthier, happier and more whole than I did before cancer, but that is not quite accurate. Those particular words are not exactly right.
Healthier: This cannot be within a body with incurable stage 4 cancer, a body that is physically and mentally limited, a body plagued with digestive problems, fatigue and pain. Perhaps I mean that I am comfortable with this body I have. I like it. I may even love it. I marvel at its abilities, even when those are much more limited than before cancer. People my age seem so concerned about aging and I see aging as a wonderful privilege.
Happier: How can I be happier when there is gut-wrenching fear of dying young, before my kids are ready and without my fulfilling my biggest wish in life – to grow old alongside my husband? Surely I am not happier. Perhaps I mean more at peace, more comfortable in my own skin, more confident to practice self- compassion, much better at time management, much more skilled at setting priorities with my own time.
More Whole: How can this very broken body be more whole? Perhaps I mean that I know myself so much better than I did before cancer. I have experienced much trauma related to my cancer journey – chemotherapy, radiation, surgeries and so many scans. I had to quit working, throwing us into financial insecurity and uncertainty. Outside of cancer there have been so many problems. Surviving all this has made me stronger, like bones knitted together after a fracture. Knitting together fractured relationships makes them, in my opinion, stronger than they were before they broke – definitely built on a more solid foundation.
I started this cancer journey with the scary realization that I am in control of nothing – hence the title of the whole blog, “I am NOT in Control.” I have developed a closer relationship with God. I talk to God so much in the normal course of a day. I swear at God. What the eff, God? Seriously, God? God, give me the words. God help me put on my big-girl panties today. God, I just cannot. There is too much pain, anxiety and fear to say, smugly, that I am happier and healthier than I was 7 years ago. I see my cancer in the faces of my husband and our three children. I saw it in my mom. But, to use the selection from this poem, I am now learning to be both lighthouse and sinking ship, the beacon and the wreckage.
Yesterday started early but I was home in bed by 5 which was heavenly and slept better than I had in many days. I had a support group on zoom this morning. I decided to try walking at the gym and was able to go 20 min at a pace slower than usual. I felt smug. So I decided to walk Madi this evening. It was not a good choice to walk a 90 pound dog the day after treatment. A dog started running toward her and she took the bait. I was not prepared and ended up face planting in the ditch. She came running back immediately after hearing me swear loudly at her and laid down beside me as though she was a caregiver and not a troublemaker. Sometimes I think she recognizes her name as, “God Dammit Madi.” I have some abrasions and I know I will be sore tomorrow, but it could have been worse. Lesson learned.
I am not in control. 