The Calm Before...

I'm sitting here waiting for words to come. Good words...or maybe angry words. Hopeful ones or ones that will once again spark a fight in me. Where are my words of courage, of fear? Any meaningful words would be welcome. However, words escape me. Instead, there is a stillness- like a soft inhalation before diving headlong into a raging stream. It is a stillness that implies action is imminent- that Life itself is waiting with bated breath.

I began to suspect something was going awry with my health a few months ago. Fatigue hit me like a wall. A general sense that something was not quite right with my body became more convincing as the weeks went on. Per protocol, imaging was done. My lymph system must have been feeling the holiday spirit because it lit up my scan beautifully. Next came surgery. I had a laparoscopy done to remove particularly large and active lymph node located in my lower torso. I received a call two days ago with the pathology results.

My cancer is back.

The news did not surprise me in the least. There was no surge of fear or dismay; no flaring conviction that I need to head off to save the world (yes, that is an emotional response I sometimes have when I hear sad news). This was just fact. The sky is blue. Teenage boys can be smelly. I have cancer. Since receiving the news, my brain is very divided on how it wants to respond. I mostly pendulum between extremes (e.g.  "I need to not let this cancer change anything about our life" *3 minutes later* "Ohmygosh, this cancer is a sign that we need to change everything about our life!").

 My emotional state is a little more complicated because my reaction is so atypical to how I usually respond to things.  I am a person of BIG feelings. Big hopes, big fears, big dreams.  However, I seem to be operating under a strong emotional anesthetic. The thought of dying stirs no fear in me; the wonderful statistics that say I will heal from this cancer do not leave me hopeful. For the sake of complete candor, I will say that this emotional numbness has been a mercy. It provides relief from the pressure of constantly monitoring my reactions and attitudes about my future- it allows me to function. I am able to be present with my children and cherish those idyllic moments.

I have not had the chance to talk about my specific treatment with my doctor, so I do not know my treatment timeline, as of yet. The method my oncologist is planning to use has proven very successful for patients with my medical history. That in and of itself is cause to celebrate. It means chemo, again, and all the wonderful side effects that come along with that. But I can tolerate anything for a season. And this season has an end.

So, what now? Honestly, I'm not too sure. The plan is to take a semester off of work. Hopefully, that will give me enough time to finish the bulk of my treatment. I will continue working on my Master's degree so that my brain doesn't rot along with my body. In general, my biggest plan is to enjoy living life at a slower pace, as much as possible. I will post again once we have more information. Thank you, everyone, for your well wishes and prayers!